A Rose
by hiei1317
Summary: a rose. It can mean everything and nothing. It can bind hearts and break them. It can mean many things and can come in many colors. But most of all, it is the symbol of love. M for later chapters, trust me...
1. The Return of OG

A/n: a rose. It can mean everything and nothing. It can bind hearts and break them. It can mean many things and can come in many colors. But most of all, it is the symbol of love.

This is that sotry that i promised you all! This is slash, people. Again E/R.

Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any characters in it!

RAOUL POV

It's been one year since the incident of the Phantom of the Opera. I am glad to say that we have heard no more from him. And also that we have performed a single piece, the opening night last night. The only reason for the delay was the rebuilding of the stage. After the chandelier came down, there was a fire. Two killed, a dozen or more injured.

When I first learned that the managers needed to meet with me, I felt it would be nothing, but their urgency surprised me.

Pulling up in my carriage to the famous Opera Populaire, I hop off and quickly stride to the mangers office. I knock and I hear M. Firmin demand, "Who is it?"

I stand up tall and answer in a calm voice; "It is your patron, Monsieur."

Quickly the bolts on the door slide open and M. Andre pulls me into the office as the door is sealed shut behind me.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demand.

"He's back!" M. Firmin exclaims. He need not give a name: it's the Opera Ghost, the Phantom, Christine's Angel of Music.

"When?" my voice is grave.

M. Andre shakily replies, "We found the note yesterday, and instantly sent for you."

"What does he want?" I know the only reason he would show himself, or let us know he is back, is to get something, "Was he not pleased with the triumph of last nights performance?"

"He's demanding a raise!" M. Firmin screams, outraged.

"Another two thousand francs!" M. Andre points out.

"Well, it would be good not to anger him," I point out. "No matter how much I hate the man, I know that it is unwise to be on his bad side."

"Monsieur Vicomte, we do not have the money to pay," M. Firmin exasperates.

"How much is it again?" I turn to M. Andre, finding M. Firmin far too annoyed to speak to.

"Twenty two thousand francs. Two thousand more than before," he sighs.

"And here's the devil's note to prove it," M. Firmin jabs the note at me.

I take it and read:

_My dear Managers,_

_I have heard of the Opera's new success. I congratulate you on your choice of performers. But in this new light, since I see I am no longer needed to choose who shall perform, I would like to enlighten you with a deal. I leave your casting alone, if you pay me two thousand _extra_ francs a month. A grand total of twenty two thousand francs a month. If you decline, well, I shall say that would be most unfortunate for you._

_Your obedient servant and business partner,_

_O.G._

The nerve. To demand more money from these poor men, poor in more than one sense.

"I'll pay the additional two thousand francs," I sigh out.

"What, Monsieur?" M. Andre moves a step closer to hear me.

"I'll pay the extra two thousand francs," I look at him and realize my tone is harsh. Not caring, I continue, "I can afford it, and I know it's going to a good cause."

"Oh, thank you Monsieur le Vicomte!" M. Andre bows.

"And now if you would excuse me, I have some business to take care of," I add.

"Oh, of course," M. Firmin nods.

"Thank you again, Monsieur," M. Andre yells after me as I walk out the door.

Business indeed. That man will pay, now that I know he is a man, and I know what dirty little tricks he likes to pay. His head will be mine!

ERIK POV

I watch as the fool leaves the room. I watch as the managers re-lock the door, a false sense of security. They know as well as I that the lock is no match for me and that I could still enter the room at will. But I choose not to, and I let them continue their hope that I will not bother them.

For now, I will not, there are far greater matters.

I move from the mirror and make my way to Box 5, listening through the wall to the Vicomte's distinct footfall. He means to challenge me in my own territory. I'll play along, if nothing else, then to satisfy my own need to toy with the incompetent boy.

Easily moving ahead of the boy, I make for my own personal entrance to Box 5, and easily sit in my chair before hearing the door crash open.

"You know, there is such a thing as knocking!" I turn and see his face, red with furry. Something about it actually is attractive.

Keep your thoughts in line! I could never find another man attractive!

"How dare you?" he yells, "You disappear for so long, and then just decide to return as if nothing had happened? As if you had never left? Who do you think you are?"

I stand up and move directly into his face, "My dear childish friend, I am the Opera Ghost, and as such, in being a ghost I can choose when and where I wish to appear. If I had not wanted to, I could have not come here, and not met with you."

"You bastard," he growls.

I slap him hard across the face, "Watch your tongue, boy."

"Oh, I think I hit a nerve," he sneers.

I stand over him and watch him shrink in fear at my presence, suddenly much darker than before, "When you have been ridiculed in front of thousands of people, then you can call me names. But until you feel that pain for yourself I would advise you to watch your tongue." The last three words were clipped.

Before what I said can register, I storm out of the room through the regular door, leaving him with something to think about.

RAOUL POV

I watch as he storms out, leaving me utterly confused. My face stings where his strong hand hit. I was actually quite surprised by his strength. Many things surprised me today.

I remember, as I was coming up to the fence, hearing his words: _This face which earned a mother's fear and loathing. A mask my first unfeeling scrap of clothing._

And then what he just yelled: _When you have been ridiculed in front of thousands of people, then you can call me names. But until you feel that pain for yourself I would advise you to watch your tongue._

And the story Mme. Giry told me, of the gypsies. His name, the "Devil's Child".

What has this man lived through? I always knew my brother was strict, and sometimes very cruel about it, but never was he anything like the people this man has met.

I know of humanities cruelties, this man has actually lived every day through them.

Maybe he's not really as bad as we think he is, maybe he's just misunderstood.

And maybe I'm not the Vicomte de Chagny! What am I thinking? I don't care about this man!

But still, I wonder…

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**a/n: my goal for this story is to get atleast 60 reviews... so please, help me reach my goal, be kind and review!**


	2. “There are almost two dozen”

a/n: wow! thanks for all the support all! chapter 2 is here!

inkie pinkie : I'm glad you like it! The reason i am fast is that as i post one i am writing another... you see, then there is no pressure to type and update!

Crimson Rose to Ebony : thank you very very much!

Moonjava: In the end, i think i would like this one better too... right from the start i agree:)

Lilhikki : just a but more movie based, only cause there's more people though... thank you so so much! hug

Uhhh... : thank you:)

wolfegurl006: I'm glad you liked the line, so did i! and thanks for the review!

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ERIK POV

That boy! Why doesn't he just leave me alone? The managers know their place, this boy does not. Someone must teach him some manners.

I look once more at the note that he has sent me, which he left yesterday on my seat in Box 5 before he left; I just want to know if he knew it was my seat, or if that was a coincidence:

_Phantom,_

_I did not know how to address this note, for I do not have a proper name for you, please forgive me. I also beg for your forgiveness for what I have said. If you are not too upset I would like you to humor me: meet me tonight on the roof after the performance. I'll be there all night if I must. Please come._

Raoul 

That boy! Though, I must say, the thought of him begging _me_ for something is quite a comforting thought. Smiling to myself I close the note.

My first instinct to burn the note is quickly countered by another feeling, one I am too used to, curiosity.

I know of the saying "curiosity killed the cat". Lucky for me, I am no feline.

RAOUL POV

I stride my way to the stage from behind. I can hear Christine practicing from back here, along with Mme. Giry's constant commands to her dancers.

Walking cautiously up behind her, I place a hand on her shoulder and she turns to me, surprised.

"I'm sorry, Madame, but I was wondering if I could have a word with you," I bow to her a little.

"Monsieur, we are rehearsing," she testily answers.

"Please, only a moment of your time!" I insist.

"Very well," she gives in and we walk to her room.

Entering and locking the door she turns to me, "What could be urgent enough to interrupt my rehearsal, dare I ask?"

I turn from her, "I need to apologize to someone, I just don't know how."

"Well, Monsieur, who is it that you are apologizing to?" she encourages me.

"Madame, I wish to apologize for something I said yesterday," I turn back to her.

"Yes," she sighs, "but _whom_ did you say this to?"

"I don't know his name…"

"Monsieur…"

"… I only know him as the Opera Ghost," the name stops whatever she was trying to say.

"Very well," she nods, "Then I shall say this: don't apologize at all. You are only risking your life by doing so."

"Madame, I truly wish to apologize, I feel terrible for what I have said," I answer truthfully. I never meant to hurt him so deeply with my words and actions, I only meant to keep him from Christine.

She nods, "I see. Then try roses."

"What?" I look at her in disbelief.

"He loves roses," she shrugs, "Something I have not been able to stop him from doing is loving roses. Red roses especially. Roses and music are his only true loves."

"And Christine," I correct.

"No," she shakes her head, "his heart is now healing, he does not love her anymore. If anything I would say he is falling in love with another, but who I do not know."

Well, good luck to the girl it happens to be!

"Thank you, Madame," I bow.

"I must get going, but I wish you luck tonight," she smiles.

Before I can react she has gone, much like the Phantom yesterday. How did she know about tonight? Did _he_ tell her? Probably.

I will never be able to trust her again.

ERIK POV

Dressing in my finest suit, I skip going to the performance, and wait patiently for the time it will end, simply composing to keep myself busy.

Taking a sip of the wine that I have left from my dinner, which I ate alone as always, I look at the clock, sigh, and start heading to the roof.

No matter how much I hate the boy, my curiosity for him and his motives never ceases. I can never get him out of my mind. His face, his hair, his eyes.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

Opening my door to the roof I see the Vicomte there, pacing the length of the roof.

I watch him for a few moments and then decide to speak, "You are really quite annoying when you do that. Would you mind stopping?"

He halts and looks over at me, "Sorry."

"Thank you," I respond and walk over to the great winged gargoyle, sitting down, "Now, why am I here?"

He shrugs, "I don't know, why are you here?"

I look at him with a deep pit of hate brewing in my mind for him; "I came here because you wanted to meet me on the roof."

He smiles and I find the smile quite appealing. His lips are perfect.

Stop thinking these things!

He walks over to me and, while the smile disappears, calmly replies, "I wanted to apologize for what I said. You were right, I had no right to say what I said, and I _am_ truly sorry. Also, I wanted to give you these, as a token of my apology." He takes from behind him a sight that stops my heart.

Roses. Beautiful, red, and stunningly bright. Much like his lips.

"There are almost two dozen," he says as I take them.

I count them to myself, twenty-two. Very funny.

"Ha ha," I reply sarcastically, and he beams, taking two more from behind his back.

"Maybe you'd like to make that a perfect twenty-four," he places them in the center of the bunch.

I look at him in disbelief, "Why?"

"Like I said, I really feel sorry about what I said," he comments.

I regain my composure, "Right. Well, needless to say, apology accepted. Now why don't you run along to your little wife."

"What?" he looks at me far too confused to be real.

"What Vicomte," I haughtily respond, "Have you forgotten that you are married?" Then I notice the lack of a wedding ring on his hand.

He looks at me with almost a loathing glance, "You mean Christine?" He then turns away, "We never married, my brother would not allow it."

I look down, past the roses, to absolutely nothing, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up."

He looks back at me, though I still avoid his glance, "You didn't know."

I shake my head; "I spoke with insufficient facts. I would have heard of such a thing if it had happened, I'm the sorry one now."

He laughs lightly, "Don't be."

An odd silence falls and I gently caress one of the roses, brushing it against my bare cheek.

He is the first to break the silence, "Madame Giry is right."

I look up, "About what?"

"You really only love two things, music, of course, and roses," he smiles. That's not all true!

I glare, "When did she tell you that?"

He holds up his hands in a defensive gesture, "I asked her a good way to apologize to you and that's what she said."

"That woman!" I growl.

Another silence.

"Monsieur?" this boy is getting on my nerves now.

"What?" I remain calm.

"What is your name?" I laugh at his innocence.

"Why does this concern you?" I shoot another hateful glance, though it is harder to do so holding the roses that _he_ gave me.

"This way I do not sound rude and address you as 'Phantom' or 'O.G.'," he explains.

"Well, for now those will do just fine," I make the remark sound very final.

I look back to the roses and get a final idea.

"You know," I turn to him, "They say roses are a symbol of a man's love. Do you love me, Monsieur?"

He looks at me incredulously, "What? No!"

I shrug, "Pity." Walking up to him I catch his lips in a quick and caressing kiss, "Because I find you strangely attractive."

Walking off back to the opera house I listen as he stares in silence. This will not be our last meeting, I hope.

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**a/n: again, i have 6 and i'm trying for 60, please help me reach my goal by reviewing!**


	3. If Only For Tonight

a/n: wow! sorry it took so long for me to update (I'm usually better about these things...) but i've been REALLY busy the past few days when i meant to update!

quantuminferno: thank you so so much and i hope that i do not disappoint you!

Loser: yes... Erik has a tendency to do such things... :)

inkie pinkie: lol, thank you! **hug**

Jaded Sapphire: That was my fave part too:) thanks!

wolfegurl006: you should just make it a habit of pointing out great lines, you are very good at it! lol, thanks:)

Moonjava: yes, again i think Erik lives to do such things... :) thanks!

hatred in a box: thank you so so much! You flatter me. **blush. hug!

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RAOUL POV 

He kissed me. That _man_ kissed me!

Yet I can not say that I did not enjoy it, for that would be a lie.

The entire way back to the house and still now as I sit alone in my room I find my lips burning from his touch. Slowly, yet faster then I thought possible, the hate for this man has been subsiding within me, replaced by love. This simple act of compassion and love has been enough to send me over the edge.

Curling into myself as I feel my need for love grow between my legs I try to think of other things, but there is a stinging pain in my cheek and then one in my lips that refuses to go away, a constant reminder of him.

A knock at my door surprises me.

I quickly uncurl, pick up my book from the bedside table, open it and call, "Come in."

Philippe opens the door and walks over to me, sitting on the bed, "Where could you find the stupid little voice in your head that allowed you to agree to pay an extra two thousand francs to the opera house?"

I sigh, re-closing the book, "Philippe, the Opera Ghost was demanding it from the managers!"

"Then let them pay him!" he yells.

"They can't! That's why I'm paying it!" I yell back, sounding quite childish.

"Raoul, I know that you love the opera house, but you can not spend all of our money on it. What makes you think that you can?" he asks.

"I don't think I can, I know that I can't," I lower my eyes from his.

He gently lifts my chin to meet his face once more, "Then why are you doing this? Is it that chorus girl again? You know that I forbid you to marry her, or keep her as any part of this family or household."

"I know," I sigh, "It's not her."

"Then who?" he smirks.

I smile at him slyly, "Since when is it a who?"

"I know you, my brother, and I know when you are in love," is that what I am? In love? With the Phantom?

"They're very nice, and they hold a much higher ranking then any chorus girl," I answer.

"A prima donna?" he smiles.

"Even better," I smile back.

"That's the brother I know!" he embraces me and then stands once more.

Leaving the room he turns back to me, "Just please stop making us go broke!"

"I'll try," I smile to his back as he shuts my door.

My burning passion for my masked lover grows between my legs. Am I really in love with him? It feels a hell of a lot better when I'm with him then it did with Christine. I knew that I never really _loved_ Christine, so _could_ this be love?

I don't really care for now. Blowing out the candles, I gingerly reach my hand down into my pants, searching for relief, if only for tonight.

ERIK POV

I gently lay the roses in a fragile glass vase with nice fresh water on the table where I eat. Their fragrance seems to fill the whole room. That's when I think of moving them to my room, which I do. I look at them, sitting in my coffin bed, which I also canopied. I feel the canopy slowly move to caress the side of my face without the mask and I realize that one of my trapdoors has opened and closed. A warning alarm goes off and I quickly jump out of bed.

I walk out into the main area where I see Madame Giry standing with her back to me, looking at the now empty area where my shrine to Christine used to be.

"You threw it all away," there is sadness in her voice. She hasn't even turned to see me.

"No. I put it away in another room, it was too hard to bear," I answer.

"Not since you found someone else's heart to toy with," she comments.

"What are you suggesting?" I turn her around to face me with a violence that surprises her.

She stands defensively, "You are toying with the Vicomte."

"Hardly," I wave it off.

"Then what was that meeting on the roof all about? The kiss?" she smiles.

"Why must you always spy on me?" I turn to her in helplessness.

"Because, I did not think that things would go as well as they did. I thought he would end up with a broken body, not a broken heart," she comments.

"Nothing I said up there was a lie," I growl.

She stares in shock, "Erik, are you suggesting that you…"

"Yes. I have actually fallen in love with the boy," saying this feels so great, removing this burdening weight from my chest.

"Erik," she sighs, "If you love him then you wouldn't toy with him."

"Then what am I to do?" I ask.

"Oh, my child," she places a hand on my arm.

"I am not your child! My mother hated me," I whisper the last part.

"I think of you as my son, whether you wish for me to or not," she responds.

"Then answer me like a mother would, what should I do?" I plea.

"In a mother's words, tell him. In my words, follow your heart, it will not steer you wrong," she rubs my arm and then turns to leave.

"Thank you," I whisper to her back.

She turns and embraces me as if I were her long lost son, "You're welcome."

Letting go she leaves without another word.

My only problem now is that my heart is so confused.

I go back into my room, change into my sleep clothes, and curl into my coffin, but I stay sitting up. I look over at the roses, and feel drawn to them. Reaching out I pluck one from the vase.

Running it's smooth, velvety petal over my lips I close my eyes and can almost see Raoul in front of me, and there is no rose on my lips, but his own lips in its place. I marvel at his beauty from the distance we must be, but then open my eyes to see him, and find myself face to face with the rose.

Hugging the rose to my chest I feel a thorn prick my hand. Placing the finger in my mouth I realize it is not even bleeding.

How could someone like Raoul, a lively and bright person, ever like a person like me, so dark and dead? It's impossible.

I place the rose back in the vase and sigh heavily. Letting a single tear fall from my eyes, I lie back in the coffin much like a dead man would, and fall into a sleep plagued with pleasant images of my love, my Raoul.

I wish that I could be alive, for him, if only for tonight.

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**a/n: well? I'll admit that i started to cry writing this. I will not set a certain goal, but i would like to shoot for 6 reviews. please?**


	4. broken hearts and bare halls

a/n: i am so so so so so so so so so so sorry! I had planned on having the chapter up so long ago, but then a family trip and a really crappy computer took that chance away! I am so so sorry!

quantuminferno: thanks:)

Bastet Starwind: lol... thank you... i think... j/k, thanks a bunch:)

Crimson Rose to Ebony: yes... i would agree... but you are also right that things are just one big mystery...

Jaded Sapphire: thanks. I was trying to give other people a chance to do things...

Lize Radcliffe: lol, thank you:)

inkie pinkie: thanks:hug:

phantomfreak258: i know how that is with the review thing... neways, thanks for the great review, happy you've been reading:)

Loser : lol, kk, here's more!

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RAOUL POV 

I woke up screaming. To be correct, I woke up along with half the house, screaming. I tossed and turned all night, with pictures of _him_ in my head. I don't know why I was screaming, but Philippe heard me at the other side of the house in his study. He said that he didn't want to wake me up this morning because I was home and in bed so late, and so he let me sleep through breakfast. I never would have known had he not told me.

Now I sit at the table, lunchtime already, and watch as his eyes dodge to me, discreetly, but I still notice. I sigh into a mouthful of toast.

"What is it?" I demand.

"Brother?" he acts innocent.

"Drop it," I growl, "You've been avoiding my glance when I look at you, but you'restaring when I'm not looking at you."

"You're paranoid, I have not done any such thing!" he screams across the table. Some of the servants scurry from the room.

I slam my hands down on the table and stand up, "If you insist on playing this game, then learn to play it without me here!"

I storm from the table, fuming. If he would just admit it I would have no problem, but he is always trying to dodge these things, especially when they have to do with me!

I slam the door to my room and lock it, and realize how childish I'm being. Right now I really don't care. How dare he? He is always so childish, thinking that if he denies something it will be as though nothing has happened!

I sit on my bed and pick up the book I had been pretending to read last night. Opening to my bookmark I start to read.

It describes something much like my life, a man who wants nothing of the fame he has, and only wishes to be with the woman he loves. The only difference I find between us is that he loves a woman, and I love a man. This is something I find myself ashamed of. A man should not love another man!

I place my book down again and take out some parchment and start to write.

After ten tries I finally get the note to sound like it should:

_Phantom,_

_It has come to my attention now that our tragic little feelings towards each other, which some call love, is very inappropriate. I should ask that we not meet again. My greatest apologies for anything I have done improper._

_Raoul_

As I read through the note I find my mind ease, but my heart breaks.

I walk down stairs, past my servants, straight to the door, and out to the stables. I saddle my prized white horse and ride swiftly to the opera house.

Leaving my horse to the stable master I walk in and go to the room where few dare tread, Box 5.

Unfortunately, I run into him.

He turns around, annoyed again with my presence, and comments, "You are not one to knock, are you?"

I sigh, "I did not expect to find you here, there is not a performance is there?"

"No," he agrees, "but I can watch them practice, can I not?"

I shrug, "It's not harming anyone."

He turns back, "No, it's not."

I walk to his side and drop the note in his lap, "I came to give you this. Good bye."

ERIK POV

The way he says 'good bye' seems so final. As he opens the door and leaves I quickly tear the note open and read.

The words tear a hole in my heart.

How could he say that? I know he cares about me, right?

It doesn't matter to me. It shouldn't! The petty words of a Vicomte, they mean nothing.

Then how come they hurt so much?

I take the note and crush it in my hand. Opening my passageway I quickly slam it shut and storm my way back to the hell that I call home. Stopping half way there, fury rising in me to the point of pain, I slam my fist into the wall. Looking down there is blood running from my fingers. I laugh. And slowly the laughter becomes tears. It does hurt, but that's not why I'm crying. The pain in my hand is nothing compared to the pain in my heart. I heave these lonely sobs; slowly falling against the wall and letting myself fall to the floor. Once reaching the lowest level I stop falling and I cry into my arms, the tears stinging as they drift over my wound. This is silly, though. I am the Opera Ghost, I shouldn't be crying over something so small! Slowly my sadness turns to anger and hate, so strong that my instincts as a killer kick in. I tear a small dagger from my belt and look at it. The silence and cold of the metal seem so inviting. I roll up the sleeve of my shirt and stare at my wrist. I don't worry, I barely bleed at all, no living blood runs through my cold, lifeless, body.

I take the dagger and slowly bring it down my wrist, cutting a straight line, slightly curved out at the bottom, that is perpendicular to my wrist. I then curve another cut around at the top and then a line that goes down to the inside of my wrist, completing a perfect "R". I take my dagger into the other hand and look at my free wrist. Solemnly I cut the shape of a rose into this wrist, and then watch the blood drain from my body. I feel myself slowly drift into the peaceful sleep that follows.

MADAME GIRY POV

As practice ends I hear a loud slam from up in Box 5. Something has angered Erik. Not delaying in my investigation of his annoyance I leave the girls and quickly stride my way to Box 5.

Reaching the top I knock, and when no one answers I open the door. There is no one here. Knowing better than to just leave, I press on the walls until one gives way, leading down to Erik's layer, one of his many hidden paths.

Quietly and carefully making my way down, I watch, as the light grows stronger from around a corner. And then further down I hear sobs. Starting to run I abruptly stop when they stop, and resume walking, though at a slower pace.

Half way down I see what I have dreaded to see all my life: Erik, lying in a pool of blood, out cold. He is not dead; his breaths are slow and uneven, but still there. I realize the blood is his own.

Diving to his side, a whisper to him, "Erik? Erik!"

He is too far-gone to hear me. I pray that I have found him in time.

Tearing the bottom of my dress off, I calmly take one of his wrists and clean off the blood that flows from it, slowly flowing now. I see an "R" carved into it, very precise. Oh, God, it can't be! I take another piece of my skirt and wrap it tightly around his wrist, cutting off the blood flow.

I then do the same process to his other wrist, which has a rose carved into it instead.

As I finish I lift him slightly, with just enough strength to get him out of the blood. Laying him back down on drier ground, I gently stroke the hair from his face.

Then a voice calls out, "Mother?"

Meg! She followed me.

Seeing no other choice then to reveal what has happened, I call back to her, "Here, Meg, I'm here!"

As she runs around the corner she stops dead at the sight of the Opera Ghost, his head in my lap, and me gently caressing him.

"Mother?" she kneels down, "What has happened?"

She knows that Erik and I are good friends. She is the only other person, other than Raoul and myself that know that I saved Erik, "He is injured. Is the Vicomte still here?"

She looks at me confused, "Of course, he's with the managers."

"Go get him, and tell him that it is Christine that is hurt, he will come. Lead him back here," she nods and runs off.

It's only a few moments of silence before I hear rushed footsteps. I watch as the Vicomte turns the corner and stops dead, much like Meg did before, at the sight he sees.

"I thought Christine was the injured one," he growls, slightly out of breath.

"I knew you wouldn't come unless I sent her with that message," I explain, "besides, if nothing else I want you to see one thing before you walk away."

I quickly and carefully undo the bandage over Erik's one wrist and reveal the "R". He looks at it in disbelief and I comment, "The other wrist he cut a rose into. Now, if you would be so kind, I need to get him to his home."

Raoul, thank God, does help, and as he gently picks up Erik's lifeless body I see a tear flow down his cheek. I pity the young man, though I would like to know why Erik would take such drastic measures.

"Monsieur," he looks at me, "I know this man, and I know he would not do something like this without an extremely good reason. What is happening?"

The words cause his throat to choke when he tries to talk, "Madame, I couldn't go on loving another man. It isn't right for two men to love each other. I was simply trying to put an end to it."

I sigh, "Erik does not take heartbreak well, as you can see."

"His name is Erik?" he asks.

"Yes, that is what he told me," I look at his lifeless face, "I have raised him like a son, though he could very well be as old as me, though I doubt that from his youthful strength."

Raoul takes the hand from under Erik's neck and cups his head gently. This boy is in love, whether he feels it's right or not.

Reaching Erik's home I lead Raoul along the stone pathway and then to the swan bed, not daring to try and find Erik's real room.

Maternal instincts kick in and I rush off to grab some water and actual bandages. I find the Vicomte close on my tail.

"Please, what can I do to help?" he insists.

"Go," I answer, motioning to Erik, "Stay with him, by his side. If we're lucky he might be conscious in the next twenty four hours."

"And if not, what then?" he insists.

"Well," I turn away, "we won't have to worry about him forgiving anyone."

He will die, is what I really mean to say, but I refuse to use the word "death", Erik would not like it.

Raoul moves back to Erik's side, takes Erik's hand, and lowers his head. I see his shoulders start to shake in heart wrenching sobs.

Quickly finding everything I need I move back to Erik and tend to his wounds.

Sitting back I look to Raoul, "And now we wait."

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

**a/n: please... 6 more reviews?**


	5. Erik

a/n: yep yep... another chapter! ... I must say, this is one of the ... more ... interesting... chapters in my opinion...

wolfegurl006: of course i know...

Jaded Sapphire: yes... too many times it is RAOUL doing the drastic things... it gets on my nerves after a while... neways... thanks agian!

Loser : thanks:)

phantomfreak258: lol, yep! thanks:)

inkie pinkie: yes... that one i did know... but i was trying to change it around... i had the idea of Raoul cutting... but i didn't want it to be like hers... so i made it Erik and i made it, well... not a mask...

Bastet Starwind: yes nods indeed. lol, thanks:)

Lize Radcliffe: here you go! hug

* * *

RAOUL POV 

Waiting for him to wake up is killing me. My stomach has been churning and I am quite surprised to find I have not thrown up yet. As I look at his face, more pale than natural, I feel ready to cry every time. I did this to him. It's my fault!

I take his hand in mine, careful not to disturb his wrist. I bring my lips lower and gently brush them to the back of his hand. Mme. Giry watches me and smiles.

I look at the clock; it's been twelve hours. She has left for the performance, but quickly returned afterwards.

I sigh, and then I hear another sigh answer mine.

Looking down I watch as one of Erik's hands flexes.

"Erik?" I whisper, gently, running my free hand over his brow.

"Nnn… what? Where am I?" he looks around and spots me, and instantly is defensive, "What are you doing here?"

"Erik…" my voice dies.

"Who told you my name?" he demands, gasping in pain afterwards.

"That would be me," Mme. Giry walks over and places a hand on his shoulder.

"It was not your place!" he growls.

"No, but he has the right to know," am I invisible to these two?

"So, why are you here?" apparently not.

"Because, I care about you," I rub his hand with my thumb.

"Well, you are not welcome, this is still my house!" he yells.

"Erik," Mme. Giry scolds.

"What? It is my house, and I have a right to say who goes and who stays," he comments.

"Yes, but this young man, pardon me, has stayed by your side from the moment he got here. This man has cried for you. And I know that you could not turn away the only person you care for," she harshly remarks.

Erik turns from her, not saying a word.

I turn to leave, letting his hand drop out of my grasp, but then I feel his hand weakly reach for mine. There is one meager word, but it is enough, "Stay."

I sit back down and his features seem to relax. Unconsciously I start to move some stray strands of hair from his face.

He moves from my touch at first, but then learns I am not there to hurt him, and relinquishes his shields, leaning into the warmth that I can provide.

"It's so cold," he shivers.

I move closer to him and sit on the bed, pulling his upper body to me and pressing it to my chest.

He curls against me, his wrists facing inward, in a protective position.

"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, I'll protect you from them all," I coo.

He moans into my chest, "But can you protect me from myself?"

The words hit me deep.

"Don't speak of such things," I whisper.

He leans back and holds his wrists in my face, "Who do you think did this? It was me! Can you save me from myself?"

"If it means protecting you, I will do just about anything," I answer.

"You wouldn't kill yourself, would you?" his words stab at my heart.

"I would kill myself, but I could never hurt you," I kiss his forehead.

"Then you wouldn't have written that note," he growls, but he stays curled against me, and I take that small gesture as a good sign.

"I regretted it the moment that I placed it in your lap, but it was too late to take it back," I stroke his hair gently.

"I guess it was, wasn't it?" he actually smiles, and it's a sight so amazingly beautiful that it must be the smile of an angel.

"My angel," I whisper.

"Don't call me that," he now backs off.

"What?" I try to reach for him, but he backs away.

"Never call me that again," he insists.

"Why?" I finally wrap an arm around his shoulder and he falls against me.

"Just don't please," he whispers.

"All right, all right, I promise," I hold him to me and I listen as his breath evens out.

My poor love. I hold him to me as his body shivers.

It's not _that_ cold down here, but I'm sure that the blood-loss has everything to do with it. Holding his fragile frame to me I coo him gently.

Mme. Giry stands, "I must be going."

"I have no idea how to care for him!" I exclaim.

"Yes you do," she touches my hand, "he's fragile to your eyes, but I know you can feel his strength, it's in his voice when he speaks. He's a fighter. It's when he wakes up that you have to be careful. Be strict, or else he will never listen to you. Show him that you mean no harm, but he must do as you say. He'll obey with time."

I hope she is right, "Thank you, Madame Giry."

"Of course, Monsieur," she withdraws her hand, "And now I must go to my daughter."

She turns and leaves, leaving me with my stubborn love whom has passed out. Finding myself quite hungry, I wrap him in a few cloaks and tuck him into the bed before leaving to the makeshift kitchen.

Finding some fruit I cut and apple into small pieces for him and take one whole for myself. The apple is so finely sliced I'm surprised if he doesn't yell at me for thinking him a child.

Looking for drinks I only find wine and water. Wine is a bad idea for him right now, so I grab some water for the two of us.

Going back to the room I find him just waking up once more.

"That wasn't a long rest," I point out.

"I'll be on and off like that for days," he comments, and tries sitting up.

I move to his side and press a hand to his chest, "Be careful."

"If I don't get up soon these sheets, I fear, will be ruined," I blush in understanding.

Taking him in my arms I carry him with his direction to the bathroom. I let him support himself on me as he uses the chamberpot. Not looking, out of both embarrassment and modesty, I realize that he is smiling.

"What?" I ask, still not looking.

"Thank you," he comments.

"For what?" I ask sincerely.

"For letting me keep what little shred of dignity I have," he answers, exhausted by this small task.

He finishes and I take him in my arms once more, "You have plenty."

He laughs at me; "You're carrying me like a baby right now."

"You're hurt," I point out.

"Yeah, my pride has been shredded to nothing," he retorts.

Oh, my angel, "Look, I'm not here to take away your pride, I'm only here to take care of you."

"Ha! You claim that you hate me, and then you come running back to me," he glares at me as I lay him back in the bed, "Where does your heart lie?"

I shrug.

"You are truly pitiful boy," he sighs out.

"You must see how wrong this is, though, us two men in love!" I yell.

"Of course," he screams, "But that doesn't mean it matters. I know it's wrong, but knowing that doesn't matter!"

"It does matter," I calmly reply.

"No, it doesn't!" he screams at me, "Things like that don't matter. My heart doesn't see the difference between couples. My heart can't see that you are a man and so am I. Instead it sees what it wants to see, the two of us together. My heart loves you! _I_ love you."

I look at him, in complete disbelief, and then fall to his side.

I mumble out some words, apparently inaudible, for he yells, "_What_?"

"I said," I look him in the eyes, tears flowing down my cheeks, "I love you too!"

ERIK POV

I knew it! He does care. That note meant absolutely nothing.

My love, my angel, I'm here! I take him in my arms, not caring about the stinging pain with their contact with his back.

My fingers close around the cloth on his back as he cries into my shoulder.

I hush him, "It's okay, Raoul, hush. Everything's okay."

He backs out of my arms and takes my hands in his. That's when we see the blood that is staining the cloth and spreading fast.

"My angel," he whispers softly, before remembering my words and adding, "Sorry."

"Call me whatever you wish, my love, just always stay with me," not like her, not like Christine. She's gone; this time is for us!

"I'll never leave you," he presses on my wrists until the bleeding halts.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"Of course," he answers, "Can I get you anything?"

My empty stomach demands me to answer, "Something to eat."

"Here" he reaches behind him and brings out a bowl of freshly cut apples, "I was getting them ready before you woke up."

I reach for one, but find myself unable to grasp them. I turn my head away in frustration and embarrassment.

"I'm no better than a child, I'm even worse!" I try to calm down to no avail.

He takes my head in his arm and forces my face to turn to him. Gently, with little force to me, he places a piece against my lips, urging me to take it.

I open my mouth and he pops it in. Chewing I find myself feeling more childish by the second.

He decides to try and liven the moment, "Hey, isn't this what lovers are supposed to do, feed each other like this?"

I smile lightly as he pops another piece in my mouth, "Yes, but I'm not supposed to be _this _helpless."

He strokes my head gently, "I don't mind."

I frown, "I do."

He kisses my lips lightly, "I know."

The contact feels amazing.

He finishes feeding me, me in his arms, until the apple is gone. He then just sits here with me, holding me tight, until I fall asleep once more.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

**a/n: well... you made it this far... I'm asking for 6 more reviews... please?**


	6. The Master's Bedroom

a/n: thank you all for your patience, i was sort of... unwillingly... delaying this update, but i really am sorry!

Bastet Starwind: even i laughed at Erik for being so childish, so laugh away!

anne: here you go!

Jaded Sapphire: lol! Yeah... he succeeds 9 out of 10 times. That deserves a round of applause **claps**

inkie pinkie: i'm glad you liked it, thank you bery much!

phantomfreak258: yes! he is!

Lize Radcliffe: I'm glad to hear that appples are no longer boring to you! Thanks for the hug!

and now that i'm sure you all want to read the actual chapter, here it is!

* * *

RAOUL POV 

I hold him close to me, and reach for my own apple. His breathing seems less labored than before, and the thought calms me slightly. I would rather have him comfortable; the thought of him in pain is like a knife in the dark, waiting to stab me in the heart, advancing with every wince. I don't know what would have happened if I had lost him.

Then I realize how close I came, and I hug him tighter.

Taking a bite out of the apple, I try to think of something else, like the sensation of him, here close to me, his color still pale, but only adding to the beauty of his angelic form. After all, angels are supposedly quite pale skinned, the more fair the better with them. But my angel is more beautiful than any other is, but with this he pays the price of being much more fragile.

Finishing the apple, I slowly lower his head to the pillow and stand, making my way back to the kitchen to clean up after myself. Throwing the rinds into a trash bin, I wipe the knife clean and sigh. Looking around I see how well he has managed: a fair stock of food, though it seems hardly touched, inventive means of storage, including a small pool of chilled water as a refrigerator, and silver ware with very fine china. In other words, he did not allow himself to live in the slums that he makes this place seem to be from the outside.

Walking into the main room, I see the organ, a towering giant, taking up the entire back wall, along with many passages and doorways. Knowing I shouldn't, and not really caring that I shouldn't, I walk through the pathways, leading back to many doors.

The first one I hit would be a guest bedroom, easily a guest bedroom by the lack of all but a bed, on which my angel rests. Next is a bathroom, which I already know is beautiful and quite large, and then there are only two doors. The first one holds behind it, an even grander bathroom then the last, with great tile floors and beautifully laid out decoration. Leaving me with one door. Knowing this must be my angel's room; I pause before I can open the door. Should I? I have no right! And yet, I would love to see it.

And so, going against every bit of trust I have built with my angel I open the door. I stop, stunned into awe at the first glimpse. The walls are jet black, and the only real color I see are the papers piled high, musical notes written on them, and then the red roses, lying on the table next to something else, hidden by shadows. When I approach the object it takes everything I have not to scream. It's a coffin! Is this my angel's only bed? I open it and see it is accommodated with comfortable sleeping pillow, and then a thin sheet of fine silk. That's it. My poor angel! He sleeps in a coffin! How? Why?

I run out of the room in horror to see my angel's waking face, staring at me as I return.

"You look, Raoul, as though you have seen a ghost," he sneers.

"I think that I've seen something far worse," I comment.

He turns away, "You were not invited to go snooping through my house."

"I know, and I'm sorry," I turn away in shame.

"You saw my bedroom," not a question, a fact.

"Yes," I will not lie.

"What did you think?" he laughs.

The sound nearly tears me down, I nearly cry, "It's a sad sight, my angel, very sad indeed. I prefer seeing you in here."

"You've never seen me in there though. And who says that _I_ prefer it out here?" his tone is mocking.

"I don't know, no one I guess. You are much more beautiful out here, but still," I turn back to him, "There is no way that you could not be beautiful."

He stops, frozen, fear welling in his eyes, "You're lying."

"What?" I ask incredulously, "Never!"

"Of course," he screams, curling in and covering his head with his hands, "This is all just some sick joke that you're playing on me."

Is this what Madame Giry meant by show him I meant no harm, "I wouldn't make such a lie, I couldn't."

"Every man can and I know you can too," he hisses, "Don't lie anymore!"

"I've never lied to you," I kneel by the bedside, "Look at me."

"What?" he doesn't look me in the eyes.

"Look into my eyes, Erik," he does and his emotions are laid before me, he is terrified.

Looking back into his eyes I hold his shoulders as I comment, "I have not and will not ever lie to you or betray you. I vow now that as long as I live, I will not lie or betray you, you have my word, my promise."

His eyes break from me as if holding my gaze burns him. Burying himself once more, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and sigh in silent relief as he collapses into my arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and these words tell me I have his trust, which means he has mine as well.

I kiss his hair, and whisper back to him, "Don't be. You have every right to question people, and their trust, the world has let you know nothing but betrayal. I am not the world though, I am different from them, and while I can't prove that to you, you must believe that I am truly different. I will not abandon you like the rest of these people; I know what a hard life is. You used to have to live up to expectations and now you make your own. I, on the other hand, am ruled by a brother and by my own title, going here and there and having to present myself. I hate it. When I met you, when I first saw you, I could tell you didn't see me because of a title or my presence and now I know that you don't love me for my title, because I know that you will never be able to inherit it, it would be against the law. If I am a fool for saying this then call me one to my face, but something tells me what I have said is true."

He nods his head in my arms, "All of it! All of what you have said is true. And while at first I did not love you, for we were rivals, something always was there with me, a twitch in my thoughts, a numbness in my head that told me that there was something better out there for me, that I was making the wrong choice. Now I see how wrong a choice Christine really was. No matter how much I obsessed with her, you were always in my thoughts."

Hearing this from him, hearing him say these things to me, brings tears to my eyes. I let one fall silently as he clutches to me. Then he gasps and cries out. He pulls his wrists into his body, but does not move from my arms.

"Erik?" I rush out on a sigh.

"I'm fine, I just held on too hard for my wrists," he admits.

"You need to take it easy," I whisper to him.

"You're asking a lot you know?" he laughs.

"No more than your safety," I whisper.

"I am safe, now that you're here. I trust you to protect me," I feel his smile more than I see it.

I frown, "You know this means you can't play your music for a while."

"I can still sing though," he comments.

"Yes," I nod, "You can."

And so he does:

_Night-time sharpens,  
heightens each sensation ...  
Darkness stirs and  
wakes imagination ...  
Silently the senses  
abandon their defenses ... _

Slowly, gently  
night unfurls its splendor ...  
Grasp it, sense it -  
tremulous and tender ...  
Turn your face away  
from the garish light of day,  
turn your thoughts away  
from cold, unfeeling light -  
and listen to  
the music of the night ...

Close your eyes  
and surrender to your  
darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts  
of the life  
you knew before!  
Close your eyes;  
let your spirit  
start to soar!  
And you'll live  
as you've never  
lived before ...

Softly, deftly,  
music shall surround you ...  
Feel it, hear it,  
closing in around you ...  
Open up your mind,  
let your fantasies unwind,  
in this darkness which  
you know you cannot fight -  
the darkness of  
the music of the night.

Let your mind  
start a journey through a  
strange, new world!  
Leave all thoughts  
of the world  
you knew before!  
Let your soul  
take you where you  
long to be!  
Only then  
can you belong  
to me ...

Floating, falling,  
sweet intoxication!  
Touch me, trust me,  
savor each sensation!  
Let the dream begin,  
let your darker side give in  
to the power of  
the music that I write -  
the power of  
the music of the night ...

You alone  
can make my song take flight -  
help me make the music of the night ...

The song ends, and I smile, "You have a voice greater than the angels."

He doesn't acknowledge that he heard me, instead his arms snakes around my waist.

"Erik?" I move one arm around his back.

"I love you," he whispers into my stomach.

"I love you too," I smile, not seeing where this is going.

"I want you," as his hips move to rest on my leg I feel him pressing, against me.

I stop, seeing now where this is going. I move away a little from him, but his arm holds me within his range and he takes full advantage of this fact, moving so that he is pressing my back onto the bed.

"Erik…" my voice trails.

"I won't hurt you," he comments, "I only want a taste."

He clamps his lips down over mine and I feel myself moan into his lips in delight as his tongue makes its way into my mouth. His tongue roams my mouth until he pulls back and cries out my name.

Looking down I see that his pants are slightly moist where his hips are and that there is a sticky thin line that connects where he was lying on top of me to his pants. He blushes and turns away.

"I needed that, I'm sorry," he comments.

Without another word I pick him up in my arms.

"Raoul?" he questions.

"We need to get you washed up," a grin spreads across my face.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

**a/n: yes... and before i say anything else, i am warning you all, the next chapter is incredibly short! but i will still ask for 6 reviews, please?**


	7. a shriveled garden

a/n: this is a REALLY short shapter. Sorry.

GoddessofMusic: glad you think so. Thanks!

phantomfreak258: of course, and Raoul needs the practice, lol.

Bastet Starwind: yes, but i, unlike many others, did not mean for the song to mean a thing, it was the only Erik solo i could think of for him to sing really... so i didn't mean for it to be intimate in anyway at all. lol, thanks for the great review!

Lize Radcliffe: if you liked that image you will LOVE this. this is just a taste of what's to come.

musicofthenight5: thanks, i think... j/k thanks a bunch!

wolfegurl006: thank you, thank you **bows** you should know better than to feed my ego.

* * *

I set him down gently in the bathroom and start to fill the tub with a tap that he cleverly set up, warm and cold running water, very unique, very Erik.

He slowly undresses, my back turned away from him.

Stopping the water at a fair level and checking the temperature I ask him with my back still turned, "Do you need any help?"

The reluctance of his voice borders annoyance, "Yes."

I turn and see him modestly covering his manhood as I help him into the tub of water.

Though I know how perfectly capable of doing this on his own he is I whisper to him, "Relax."

Taking off my shirt to keep it dry, I set it aside and grab a washcloth from the tub side. Lathering it with some water he points out the soap to use and I put them both aside.

"First your hair," I sit on the side of the large and beautiful tub worthy of a spa as I move behind his head.

"This one," he hands me a shampoo bottle. I open it and it smells of roses.

"Very fitting," I smile and he does too.

Closing his eyes I watch him recline in the water as I carefully run my fingers through his hair, wetting it before putting the shampoo in. Before I even start putting the shampoo in his hair his muscles relax ten fold and I smile as I continue my task.

"Keep your eyes and mouth closed," I command as I rinse out his hair, making sure no stray shampoo irritates him.

Grabbing the washcloth again, I rewet it and then grab the soap. It smells of lavender.

"You'll smell like a garden," I laugh.

"That's the point," he smiles.

Washing him from top to bottom, making it into a massage more so than a bath, I am careful of his privates. Though I could easily at any time arouse him, I refuse to, taking my time and making sure he feels the love and compassion that I pour into my job.

Finally finishing I don't want this moment to end, so I sit up on the side and start a neck massage. He leans forward so I can reach him better and I hear him moan in delight.

When I'm done I kiss his cheek, "I'm sorry, love, but if you don't get out you'll be a shriveled garden."

He laughs and the sound is amazing, "I guess you're right."

I hold out a towel and he comments, "What? Are you embarrassed by it?"

"Don't you want me to not look?" he smiles at my words.

"No, not anymore," he stands and shows me everything, "I want you to see me, and I want to see you."

I marvel at his bare chest and arms, and his legs are wonderful as well. He is not even swollen as I move toward him. He can't support himself long though and as I watch his legs start to tremble; I swiftly wrap the towel around him and hold him to me.

"Be careful," I scold.

He laughs, allowing me to sit him down on the side of the tub.

"You liked that, didn't you?" and though I hate to admit it, I nod 'yes'.

He smiles, "Good."

And that's the end of that.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

**a/n: please review! 6 for an update!**


	8. an angel has it's flaws too

a/n: since that last chapter was very very short, i shall settle for four reviews. This also isn't the longest of chapters, but i promise that after this things will begin to grow in length again.

phantomfreak258: I'm glad you like my take on the story!

Moonjava: thank you very much!

Tay-kun: I'm glad you like the story. yes, i understand that it was a bit drastic, but still, it was about the only way i saw this story going and it would happen eventually, I'm sure... btw, thank you for that little end to your review, that really made my day!** smiles**

wolfegurl006: knowing you, you would be too lazy at that time of night... tsk, tsk. "Relax" **shiver** And i already knew you liked "shriveled garden"... one of my best qoutes!

* * *

ERIK POV 

He carries me back into the guest bedroom with little problem, as if he were carrying a kitten in his arms. I smile and curl into his warmth, enjoying the pleasant feeling of helplessness in his arms. Though I hate to admit it, I actually quite enjoy being helpless with him around. He's always taking care of me, and this means that he is making physical contact ninety percent of the time, a fact that brings a strange feeling to me. Christine could never touch me, and she could barely stand to look at my face without my mask. But this boy, this Vicomte, _my_ Vicomte, is amazingly calm when it comes to touching this damned beast, and is even less deterred by looking at me, even without my mask. He can look at my damnable face, the face of a corpse, and still smile, still make eye contact, still love me. How? How could he love me? No one is supposed to love me, yet this man does, this man who praises me, and calls me his love, calls me his angel, can see past the monster and see the man who secretly wishes to emerge. This man is the person, whom I thought would be a woman, that I knew was out there, that I always hoped to find, that can actually _love_ me. Love _me_!

Placing me gently back on the bed, he lays my feet down on the bed first and slowly moves up, until he gently rests my head on the pillow.

"You're an amazing person, Raoul," I sigh out, "Don't let your brother get to you."

"What?" he asks uncertainly.

"I said, don't let your brother get to you. I see the bags under your eyes and I recognize them too. You're very stressed, Vicomte. Don't let your brother get to you. You can't be so hard on yourself. No one is perfect, no one, especially not an angel, because no matter how perfect they seem, they still have one weakness," he looks at me and urges me to continue.

But I make him ask, "And what's that?"

"They can fall in love, far too easily. Love can cause pain, vast amounts of it," I point out.

"But it can also cause happiness," he counters.

"Depending on if the love is returned, yes, it can," I agree.

"Is my love returned then? My love for you, is it returned?" it's as though he has to hear it again.

"Always, Raoul, always," I smile, "I was more afraid that my love was not returned. The note said nothing to me about devotion, only heartbreak."

He turns away in what could be considered pain, "I'm so sorry."

"Why?" I reach out to wrap an arm around his waist, holding him close the best I can.

"You said heartbreak. I never meant to break your heart," he frowns, turning away.

I force myself into a sitting position and before he can protest I cover his lips with mine. Instantly I feel his hand snake to fit around behind my neck. Pulling me closer, his hands then travel to rest on my back. I allow my tongue to travel past my lips and I brush it along his, tasting his sweetness. His taste is indescribably perfect in every form. I feel his lips part and my tongue eagerly takes its place within his mouth once more. Finding comfort in this embrace, I allow my tongue to reach out and meet his. His tongue tangles around mine and a silent duel begins. A moan escapes from deep in my throat and I feel his hand start to move in circles on my back, very relaxing.

Finally we need air, real air, and we break the kiss, gasping.

"My God," he mumbles out.

"I'm not a god, Raoul," I smirk.

He shakes his head, "You're right. You're an angel."

He helps me lay down once more and then starts to run a hand through my hair.

There is silence for what seems like an eternity, and it's not a comforting silence either.

He breaks it, and I inwardly smile when he does, "Are you hungry?"

"No," I shake my head.

"You've hardly eaten," he points out.

"I'm used to it," I shrug.

"Erik," he scolds lightly.

"Please, try to understand. I was starved nearly to death for about ten years. If I ever regain my previous appetite it would be a miracle. I got used to little food, and now I eat little food," I argue.

"Oh, Erik," there's pity in his voice.

"Don't pity me, Raoul. If it means anything I was saved from that cruelty and then we found each other. If it were not for that cruelty I would not even live here, so maybe it was just meant to be. It's quite possible that if that had never happened to me that I never would have met you," I reach a hand out and lightly touch his face.

I feel a tear lightly brush my hand and I watch as many more begin to fall.

I look pitifully at him, "Please, Raoul, don't cry. I never meant to make you cry."

I motion for him to lower his head, and he does. I motion for him to lie next to me and he does. I place his head on my shoulder and I allow his body to wrack with sobs as he lies next to me, soaking my clothes.

I listen as his tears slowly subside and his breath shakily returns to normal. Wanting to stay like this forever I run my opposite hand through his hair and whisper to him. I whisper nothing in particular; I just mean to calm him.

After much reluctance his sobs stop and I hear his breath even out. My angel has cried himself to sleep.

"Raoul?" I try, just to make sure.

When no answer comes I allow him to sleep in peace. He must be exhausted. I know it is hard to take care of a person, no matter how much you love them. I know that it is going to be a difficult time ahead of us as I heal. For the more I heal the worse the pain will be. I wish it weren't so. I don't wish to cause him more heartbreak.

I close my eyes and allow myself to breathe in the scent of his hair, which rests right below my chin. I don't fight the sleep when it starts to come over me; I embrace it, hoping for a pleasant dream where I can see his face.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

**a/n: alright, I'm asking for 6 reviews. please?**


	9. The Vase

a/n: thank you to the two people that did indeed review:

phantomfreak258: i'm pretty sure that this should be a nice change of pace then.I hope.

Lize Radcliffe:thank you very much!

now, to the story, and please, please, please, if you read the chapter, review it.

and as a warning, and maybe a relief, they finally do get to the rated R part in this chapter, so please, if you are offended by it, you'll be able to tell where it's starting, so just skip over it.

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I wake up to a sudden movement from Raoul. I slowly turn to him and drowsily realize he seems just fine. Then I hear a moan and he tosses back. Watching him more intently he starts to toss and turn at an alarming rate. His face distorts into extreme discomfort. A nightmare.

I struggle onto my side so I can hold him close to me. Once I succeed in both I feel him trying to break free.

"Let me go!" his sharp cry pierces the calm air and my heart.

"Raoul, it's me, Erik," I whisper into his ear.

"Please… Let me go! I didn't do it! I swear! Why don't you believe me? I didn't do it!" his screams are more desperate and heart wrenching by the second.

In his relentless struggles, his hands find their ways to my arm and grasp at my wrists, shooting pain through my arm. I cry out, and watch as he shoots into a sitting position, gasping desperately for air.

He glances around, gathering his bearings.

"Raoul," my voice does nothing to hide the pain.

He turns to me, as I lie in a crouching position, sweating, my arms pulled to my chest, "What happened?"

I wince as I try to move my wrist. "It was a nightmare," I gasp, "You were having a nightmare."

His eyes glow with understanding, and then concern, "Are you alright?"

I nod, "I'll be fine."

"I hurt you," he comments.

"You didn't mean to, you couldn't help it," I comfort him.

"I'm still sorry," he reaches out and caresses my face, his hand slowly stroking my cheek. I close my eyes, leaning into his touch.

Turning so his hand now caresses my forehead, I ask, "What didn't you do?"

"What?" he seems so shocked…

"In your sleep, you yelled you didn't do 'it'. What didn't you do?" I move so his hand is on my cheek again, and then slowly move my hand to cover his.

"Oh, nothing. Just some stupid thing I did when I was younger," he brushes off.

"It had to be bad enough if you had a nightmare about it," I nudge.

He shrugs, "Childish things: bad then, not now."

"Please," I urge.

"I was five. My friend had come over. My brother, Philippe, never approved of having him over. He called my friend a thief and a cheat, just because he was poor. Philippe said that my friend, Josiah, only liked me because I had money and he didn't. I never believed my brother, until that day. Josiah had come over, but he had snuck in. We were playing upstairs when he knocked over a very fine and expensive vase. Seeing no other choice but to run or get caught, he ran, and he let me stay and take the blame. Philippe came storming into my room, first seeing if I was all right, then he yelled. He yelled so long and so loud. I kept begging and begging for him to believe me, for him to see that this wasn't my fault. He never listened. He beat me long and hard. I never felt him hurt me like that before and never again. It left me bloody and sore. He kept saying it was because I was a liar, and because I had broken one of the rules, he was so sure, and that's how the vase had broken. Once he left the room I laid my head on my pillow and finally let the tears fall. Never before then, just then. I cried myself into a deep sleep. I woke up the next morning and would not leave my room. I locked and barricaded the door. He never got in. For three days I didn't eat or drink anything. I never left my room, and I barely slept. I cried a lot though. Finally, on the fourth day, Josiah came to the house with a guilty heart and confessed to the entire thing. He admitted to it, because he felt guilty. _Guilty_! I never knew that liars and traitors could feel guilty. But he did. My brother instantly found his way into my room and came in, apologizing. He spoiled me every day afterwards: fine meals, extra treats, and grand gifts. But I could never forgive him. He held me long and hard. On the sixth day after my freedom, I heard a strange noise down the hall. I followed it to the drawing room to find Philippe crying. He turned to me and asked me "why?". I asked him what he meant and he answered, "Why cover for him? Why take the beating for him when you could have just confessed?". I told him he would never understand. He pulled me onto his lap, careful of my sores and cried onto my shoulder, apologizing again. It wasn't until that moment that I realized he did actually understand, and didn't want to admit it. I eventually forgave him. He still spoils me to this day, feeling guilty ever since," I watch as a tear strays from his eye. Only a single tear. (a/n: my longest paragraph ever written...)

"Oh, Raoul," I sigh.

He looks down at me.

"You're with me now," I coo. I find myself doing that very often now.

He smiles, "I know."

He takes my left hand and lightly lets his thumbs brush over the bandage covering the "R".

"Everyone has ghosts," he seems to just be thinking out loud, "Just some more than others."

He brings my wrist to his lips, brushing them lightly over the bandage. I find myself wishing that my lips were in the bandage's place.

I smile as he moves to grant my wish.

Holding my head gently in his hand, he pulls my face up, only slightly, so our lips meet. He smiles as our lips cover each others, and I find myself trying to erase this nightmarish image from his head, trying to replace it with memories more pleasant. My lips slowly trace his and his hand pulls me harder to him. He is starting to give into feelings that we have for each other; he no longer is shying away. The fact is so amazing to me! He loves me, and he knows it, and he's letting me know in the most precious of ways. I thank him inwardly for this.

I love you, Raoul, always know this!

He seems to love me too, the way he slips his tongue now into my mouth, searching my mouth much as I previously searched his. The warmth of his tongue in my mouth is intoxicating. I let myself fall into oblivion as his kiss deepens. And then I feel them move, slowly trailing down to my neck and stopping, his lips resting lightly in the crook of my neck.

I finally find my voice, "I love you!"

His breath whispers across my skin, "I love you too."

The tickle of his breath sends a fresh shiver down my spine, and flushes of heat a little lower.

My love, my angel, "My Raoul."

He smiles against my neck, "My Erik."

I feel his tongue flick out against my skin, tasting me. I moan and he straightens to face me, catching my lips and silencing me. He allows me to take control of the kiss this time, my lips molding over his and my tongue entering his mouth once more. I feel safe in this embrace, like the world will never reach me again as long as this man is here with me, loving me. This thought is the most comforting of all.

He pulls back and smiles at me, "This has gone on for far too long."

I frown, and he continues, "Let's stop the charades. We love each other, and we know that there is no marriage to wait for. Let's step this up. We can be careful, especially with you being injured, but this isn't enough any more. I love you, let me prove it."

My frown deepens in anxiety, "Raoul, it's not meant to be like that. Men can't…"

He shakes his head, "No, they aren't supposed to, but they can."

"How do you know?" a sly grin spreads across my face.

"I don't. But think about it, it has to be possible," he grins.

I nod and he has my back pressed against the bed, his legs straddling my hips. I feel that he wants this now, and I start to feel heat rush below my stomach.

I watch as he slowly leans over and rests his lips on my ear, "Do you have anything to make this a bit… smoother?"

I smile, "You'll find some lotion in the top drawer of the table."

He leans over and takes it out. He smirks, "What's with you and rose scented things?"

"It's the second greatest scent of all," I whisper.

"And what's the first?" he sets the bottle within reach, but out of the way.

"You," I pull his lips to mine and he kisses me as his hands travel and start to undo the buttons of my shirt.

His lips leave my mouth and travel down to my neck, passing along agonizingly slow. Eventually his lips meet my collarbone and he trails his tongue out along the bone. Moving lower still his lips move to the smooth of my stomach and he moans into my skin.

He straightens up as my arms move to his chest, taking off his shirt in turn. When the clothing is removed he simply shrugs it off. Things move much slower from here. I can't stand the slow pace of his kisses now, moving over every inch of skin. His lips only pause for moments above my nipples, before moving on to the rest of my chest. He seems to be enjoying this pace for us, he seems not to mind, but the heat that slowly builds between us speaks otherwise.

His hands now come to the inevitable task of taking off my pants. He does the job slowly and carefully, never touching my skin, keeping his hands on the fabric and the fabric off my body to the best of his abilities.

Finding myself free I cry out his name and he grins. His turn. I do the same task for him, but with a faster pace. I can't stand the slow pace that he works at, and though I find myself repeating the fact, it still bothers me.

He then reaches out for the lotion.

Making to do the job himself I stop him, "Please, allow me."

He smiles that famous grin that I find myself in love with and lets me take the bottle. I do my job carefully; feeling his muscles move against my hands as the task gets more heated.

Finishing I move back and look at his face, his eyes lost in a haze of ecstasy.

He then lays me back down and commands me to turn onto my stomach. I comply, eager to know what he has planned for me now.

He leans down over me, "This, for us to work out, this will hurt you."

"I know," I nod, "but there's no other way."

"Erik, I don't want you hurt anymore," he complains.

"This is a good pain though, Raoul. This is different," I point out.

"Are you sure you want this?" he kisses the back of my neck.

"Oh, God, yes!" I whisper out.

He then slowly takes his position over me and slowly drives himself into me. The feeling is indescribable, him inside me.

I cry out in pain and amazement and he stops. He lies down on my back, still inside me, his breath stretching little arms across my skin. I feel his hands stroking my back in a soothing manner.

Turning to him, I reassure him, "That was amazing."

"It hurt you!" he protests.

"Just a little," I shrug it off.

"Do you want me to stop?" he offers.

I shake my head no, no longer able to find my voice.

He then moves back to his task, driving in and out of me.

Reaching his limit, he drives in once more and I feel him release inside me, and I feel myself release as well. The feeling now causes my head to spin.

He pulls back out of me and gasps. I'm bleeding.

"Erik!" he pulls me close to him and holds me still.

"I'm alright," I whisper, barely able to move or speak without pain.

"No, you're not. We shouldn't have done this," he hushes me.

"Did you enjoy it?" I ask.

"What? Yes, I did, of course, but I hurt you," he complains.

"I liked it too," the last words I can get out before losing my battle with the oncoming darkness.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

**please, please, please, review!**


	10. An Invitation

a/n: well, I hate being so mean about my updates so this, i promise, will be updated a minimum of two times this week!

tay-kun: it's okay! i understand.

Lize Radcliffe: I promise, you will be getting more!

* * *

I wake up and, trying to move my legs, start to moan. I find it painful to move anything from my waist down.

Then there's a hand on my shoulder, "Stop hurting yourself. It's alright, I'm here."

I open my eyes to see Raoul.

I smile at him and he holds a closed hand up, "Take these, it'll ease the pain."

I nod and he holds the hand to my mouth. I open my mouth in obedience and three pills slip in. He holds a glass of water to my lips and I swallow the three miniscule pills in a single sip. Taking another sip to help wash them down faster he pulls the cup from my lips and sets it down, then replaces his hand on my forehead and starts to run his fingers gently through my hair.

"Why does it hurt?" I ask, dazed still.

"Last night," he comments, "I knew I was going to hurt you. I didn't know it was going to be that bad. You were bleeding. I changed the sheets and asked Madame Giry for pain killers, claiming it was foryour wrists alone."

I look away, "Thank you."

"There's more if you need it," he touches my face, "Just let me know."

I nod, refusing eye contact.

He turns his face towards his and there are tears in his eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"I told you not to worry," I grasp him and hold him tight to me.

"You're in pain," he comments.

"I've had worse," I shrug.

"Not because of me," he tries.

"Actually, it was you. That letter… I felt more pain after you said goodbye and I read that letter than I ever have in my entire life. Before and since that point," I argue.

He lowers his head, "So it was my fault."

"What?" I force him to look at me.

"Your wrists," he blandly remarks.

"Yes," won't lie, but he already knew this.

"I don't like admitting that that was my fault, though I know it was," I see.

"Hush," I try to calm him, "You were afraid. I was too, but I never thought you would say such a thing."

"That's just it, I wouldn't say something like what I did, not by nature," he buries his face in his hands.

"And I'm sure you'll never say it again," I coo.

"I promise," he turns to me and looks me in the eyes, "Oh, God, I promise! Please forgive me, I promise."

"I forgive you, I do, don't you worry," and then my warning signals go off. Someone is coming.

"What is –" I cut Raoul off mid sentence.

"Someone's coming," I point toward the lake.

I watch him shoot up and draw his sword. I smile at his back as he stands defensively at the door, then I watch as he heaves a sigh.

"It's Madame Giry," he comments, turning to me.

"Show her in," I demand and he goes to do so.

I watch as she walks in. She sits at the chair by my bed and I try to move my legs to sit and cry out in pain.

"Erik?" she pushes me back onto the bed.

"I'm fine, just my wrists," I comment quickly.

"But you moved your legs," she's far too smart for us to hide this from in my presence.

"But it was my wrists," I comment far too harshly.

"Erik, what are you hiding? I only mean to be helpful here," she tries.

"Then you would be helpful by ceasing this questioning," I snap.

She sighs, but gives in.

Then Raoul decides that he should speak, "It's my fault."

The fool!

"Raoul?" Madame Giry questions.

"I love him, Madame, just know that," you fool of a child!

Something clicks. She knows.

"I'm sure you must," she comments and the discussion drops dead.

She digs into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out a note, "A letter from the managers to their patron."

Raoul takes the note and opens it. Then he shows it to me:

_Vicomte,_

_We would like to inform you that we are having a party tonight to celebrate the time without the Phantom around. We would truly enjoy if you could come. It will start at six. It _is_ a normal dinner party, no masks, no performers. Please, if you could come it is most appreciated._

_Sincerely,_

_M. Andre_

_M. Firmin_

The fools! The complete fools! How dare they?

"Erik?" he questions, "I'm not going."

"You must!" I protest, "They shall be suspicious of your absence."

"Please, Madame Giry, will you tell them that I am ill, and can not attend?" he seems so innocent.

"Of course I can, but I advise against it. Raoul, Erik is correct, you will arouse suspicion," she tries.

"Yes, but I will not leave Erik here alone, unguarded," he smiles weakly at me.

I manage to smile back as Madame Giry responds; "I have nothing tonight. Meg and I can stay down here."

"Meg?" Raoul is startled.

"Yes, Meg knows about Erik too. Under different circumstances the two would have grown up siblings."

He shows his shock but remains silent, and then gives in, "Alright, I'll go. What time is it now?"

"About three," she answers, "You'll need to be there in about two and a half hours. Being early will impress them."

"Thank you, Madame Giry," he bows his head in gratitude.

"It is nothing. I shall go wait for Meg now and return in an hour and a half, leaving you an hour to get ready and go, and see us come here."

"Thank you," I turn to her.

"You're welcome, Erik," she whispers and then turns and leaves.

Raoul turns to me; "I still don't like the idea of leaving you."

"I know, I know," I smile, pulling him closer to me, my arm around his waist.

"Erik?" he takes my hand from around his waist.

"What?" I sit up.

"I'll be right back," I laugh as he hurries out of the room, headed toward my bathroom.

I lay back down and silently wait, wishing that I had my music. I wish I could play, and though I know I can, I would probably only hurt my wrists. I don't want to worry Raoul; he has enough on his mind.

He comes back in and sits next to me. I sigh and he looks up.

"Reach under the bed, Raoul, there should be a case, pull it out, please," if I can't play my music, maybe he can.

He does so and places my violin case in my lap. Carefully extracting the instrument from its case I hold it under my chin and start to play, but instantly stop, my wrists burning.

"Erik," he reaches out and takes the instrument before I drop it and sets it down carefully in his lap before taking my wrists, "don't hurt yourself!"

"I'm sorry," I lower my head, my plan working perfectly.

There's a silence and I break it, "Do you know how to play?"

"A little," he answers.

"How much? The notes? Some notes? Short pieces? Long pieces?" I urge.

"I know all the notes, but it's hard for me to put them together," he answers in shame.

"Reach back under the bed, there should be some pieces," some of my earliest and lamest compositions. They have beauty, but simplicity as well.

He does and sets the pieces in front of me. I search and find a two-sheet piece.

"Try this," I place the paper in the open case, making a makeshift stand.

"I don't think I c-" he starts.

I cut him off, "You don't think you can. But you don't know until you try."

He nods and starts to play. The notes come out fine, but they are terribly separated.

"Here," I take his hand, "play the first note."

He does and I guide his hand to the second note, much nicer and much smoother.

"Wow," he whispers.

"Don't stop," I command and his hands move smooth into the next note, and then butcher the fourth.

"No!" I yell, "Like this."

I show his hand how, "Now repeat."

The process goes on for a long time. We are half way through having the song done when I hear someone walk in, and there is Meg Giry, her mother on her heals, standing in the door way.

"Good day, Madame, Mademoiselle," I nod in a slight bow and the two acknowledge this.

Raoul stands, "Nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you both," little Meg answers as Madame Giry makes her way over, placing the instrument away.

"Wait!" I protest.

"I'm already a half hour late, the Vicomte has thirty minutes to get ready," Madame Giry answers and at her words Raoul rushes from the room and goes to get ready.

"Monsieur!" she calls after him.

He rushes back in, "Yes, Madame?"

"Here," she motions to a rather large case on the inside of the door, "I had some of your maids pack some of your clothing up to bring here."

"Thank you," he takes the suitcase and leaves again.

Some minutes of silence pass before he walks back in. Looking stunning in his dark blue suit, I can't help but stare.

He walks over, "How much time is left?"

"About ten minutes, Monsieur," Meg answers.

"Then I'll start up," he looks to me.

He walks over and I take his hand. Madame Giry ushers Meg from the room.

"I won't be gone long, I promise," he squeezes my hand.

"I know, I trust you," I smile, "Just please… try to keep the girls away from you."

"Don't worry, my heart is already taken," he smiles and places a kiss on my lips.

"I love you," I whisper.

"And I love you," he kisses me again and departs.

The Girys walk back in.

Now, I just have to be patient.

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**a/n: thank you for reading! I promise the next chapter will be up soon!**


	11. Dinner

a/n: like i said, another chapter this week! and three reviews! YAY!

Tay-kun: I know, that chapter was a bit harder to write cause i was in a slump, tho i do hope this chapter is better!

Lize Radcliffe: lol, thank you very much!

inkie pinkie: that's alright, you reviewed this time! **smile and hug

* * *

RAOUL POV**

I feel terrible leaving him down there. Taking one of the faster passages to get there and get back I run up and carefully open the end. Checking both ways and seeing no one there, I follow the screams and commotion of the crowd toward the main room, stepping out and instantly running into Christine.

"Good evening," I greet her.

"Hello, Raoul," she answers.

"This is not the time to go informal on me, Christine," I scold.

"How are you?" she asks, ignoring my comment.

"Never better," I smile, "You?"

"Fine," she answers simply.

"Look, let's not fight," I try, "This is supposed to be a celebration."

She nods, "I suppose so. I wonder what's with the sudden change of heart, he is not dead Raoul. I know that he can't be dead, he never will die as long as I live."

"Christine, you broke the man's heart, he does not love you," I defend my angel without thinking.

"And how would you know this, Raoul?" she gets in my face.

"Who could anyonelove someone who tears their heart out?" how could he still love me?

"I don't know, but he's different," you don't know the half of it Christine.

Just then the managers run up, "Ah, Vicomte, very nice to see you."

"Thank you, gentlemen, it is a pleasure to see you as well," I nod.

As the conversation continues my mind wanders. How is my angel?

ERIK POV

Meg sits next to me, taking up the violin and playing flawlessly. I used to give her lessons when she was much younger. She is very good.

"That's quite an improvement since the last time," I applaud.

"Thank you," she looks at me, stopping the music that was easing my pain, "I have practiced."

"Don't stop," it comes out a near silent plea.

"Pardon, Erik?" she urges me to repeat something I find myself ashamed of.

"I said, don't stop, you're doing better than I had expected you to do in such a short amount of time. Just last month this piece would have been your limit," I search through the pile and find a harder piece, "But something tells me that this is the piece for you now."

She looks over the piece for a few moments before beginning to play. Something that I have never done in the presence of a student I find myself doing. I shut my eyes and lean back against the pillow. The music caresses me, calms me, eases the pain once more of being so distant from my love.

She reaches a difficult spot and falters; my eyes shooting open as she does so.

"Where was that?" she points to the sheet.

"Right there," the exact note is a quick and difficult change.

"Try this," I lead her hands in a quick and easy solution to the problem.

She returns tothe problem area and playswith no flaw,so I relax against the pillow once more, my eyes open and alert this time. She reminds me so much of my newest student, my angel. I wonder what he is doing.

RAOUL POV

We sit down at a large table for a meal. I see Ubaldo Piangi, back from his traumatic near death accident, Carlotta Guidicelli, the only reason she has stayed seems to be Piangi, Christine, the managers, the director, Maestro, and myself. Small, elegant dinner plates are set before us as the meal begins.

I look up nervously and see that Christine is staring at me. She never did get over loving me, though I have long forgotten my love for her. Erik is my only true love, and I see that now.

Piangi and Calotta eat in silence, very strange, usually Carlotta can not shut up.

"Why are we all here?" I finally speak up.

"To celebrate the death of a ghost!" Firmin speaks up.

"Who said he's dead?" Carlotta screams, "we said that before and he came up with his new opera! We have thought him dead before and only paid!"

"That's it, he is not dead!" Andre exclaims, "but we have made peace!"

"You made a deal with him?" Christine cries in outrage.

"But of course, only for the good of the opera, Mademoiselle," Firmin answers.

"Still, you made a deal with him?" Andre nods, "This is terrible!"

"How?" Firmin stands up, "if it keeps him away—"

"That's just it, nothing will keep him away," Piangi takes his side, against the managers, as I finish my meal regretting every moment that I have come.

"What do you think, Raoul?" Christine turns to me.

"Me?" I answer.

"Yes, you!" she cries, "Do you think he's gone?"

"I don't think he'll bother us anymore. He lost his only reasons to do so," I stand as well, "Money and you. You, well, you took care of that yourself and broke his heart, and the money is why we are he, because they settled the problem! He has no reason to bother us, or live for that matter." No reason except me.

"Now you're against me?" she yells, standing up in furry.

"Yes, I am! I may hate the man, and I may even have loved you, but now I see that you are not the woman that I am destined to be with, and looking back I see how terribly you treated him! I actually feel sorry for him!" I find my furry gets the best of me.

"Raoul," her tone softens, "please. Don't speak like that."

"Why not?" I growl.

"Raoul…" her voice dies.

"No," I stand straight, towering over her.

"Fine!" she stands as tall as she can. Her voice lowers to a feral growl; "You are no better than that monster by the lake!"

Before I can stop myself I raise my arm and slap her hard to the ground. Around me there are gasps. I don't care. I stare at her on the ground, her face showing only shock.

I turn to leave, stop at the door, "My sincerest apologies M. Andre, M. Firmin."

Without another word I leave.

CHRISTINE POV

Embarrassed beyond belief and quite upset, I soon follow Raoul in leaving the dinner, not another word from me to anyone.

How dare he?

Why was he so protective of the Phantom? Erik, of all people, has no reason to be protected… unless it's by his lover.

That's it! Raoul and Erik are lovers! Is it that hard to believe it would happen? I mean, they both have loved and lost me. Those two… wow!

And yet I envy them, they would make the perfect couple!

They're too perfect of a couple, but not for long:

_Dear Comte Philippe de Chagny,_

_It has come to my attention that there is quite the scandal between the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny and another man. Though word has not gotten out about this scandal yet, it takes place at the Opera House and you know how news travels there. I hope that I have been helpful._

_Yours Truly,_

_Christine Daae_

If this doesn't break them, I don't know what will. I fold the letter and stamp a seal onto it.

Leaving my room I head to Madame Giry's room. Finding no one there I shrug and move to the stables.

I find a stable hand and ask him to deliver it for me. He blurts out an unreasonable price, but I pay it, the money will be well spent.

He grins and I watch my latest plan go to work.

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**a/n: thank you for reading, please review!**


	12. The Unexpected Visit

a/n: wow! that many reviews deserves an update! .

NightmareFX: of course, always a happy ending... usually... and i don't know how much you'll love this chapter if you like happy, but it always is worse before it's better, right! And if you don't like Christine, you'll love the phanfic in progress that I'm currently working on! One that i... haven't posted...

Loserella : if you don't like Christine, you'll love the phanfic in progress that I'm currently working on! One that i... haven't posted... but will! after this one!

Tay-kun: With Christine... everything is spite... other than that i have nothing to say, except thank you!

babygrl258: thanks!

Mizamour: Thanks! Glad you like!

* * *

ERIK POV

I abruptly silence my lesson as I listen to my alarms go off. This is far too early for Raoul to be back! It's barely been an hour!

I watch as Madame Giry walks out into the main room and comes back with a fuming Raoul.

"Raoul, what is it?" I take his hand but he pulls it angrily away.

"That lying bitch!" he screams.

I draw back, "Who, Raoul?"

"Christine," the name is growled at me.

"What did she say?" I take his hand and he clenches mine, but it seems to calm him slightly so I let him.

"We were fighting and she yelled to me 'You are no better than that monster by the lake'. I was ready to kill her Erik!" he takes my other hand.

I pull a hand to my lips and kiss his gently, "It's okay. It means nothing coming from her."

"I know, but she had no right to say it," he counters.

"Hush," I whisper, "She has no power."

PHLIPPE POV

I hear a knock at the study door.

"Come in," I call.

"Sir, this letter has just arrived," my maid sets it on the table in front of me.

"Thank you," I say as she walks out.

Opening the letter carefully I read it.

The contents are an outrage! Raoul, running around with another man? That is out of the question! There is no way a Chagny would be caught going around with the other sex. I would prefer he marry a chorus girl than this! He has only dropped further in the ranks.

My brother, Raoul, why do you do this to me?

Running out, I head for the stables and jump onto my fastest horse bareback. Riding off to the Opera House at break neck speed I find my anger rising. How dare he?

Once I reach the Opera House I enter and head to Madame Giry's room, knowing that if anyone will know where he is, she would be the person.

Knocking on her door there is no answer. I open the door to see her exiting a path through her mirror. Praying she has not seen me I close the door and knock again.

She answers it, "Bonjour, Monsieur Comte, what can I do for you?"

I barge in past her; "I must see my brother."

She seems to panic a little, "He can not be bothered!"

"By his own brother?" I question.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur," she answers, dropping her head.

"What's behind this mirror?" I turn to it and push.

"Nothing!" she exclaims, horrified.

"I just saw you come through, now what's back there?" I demand.

"That's my business, Monsieur," I ignore her, picking up a candlestick and smashing the mirror, finding a hallway behind. They must be down there, hiding.

I storm down the path without another word.

The halls are long and dark. I follow the faint sound of voices from the far end. That has to be then. And then there is a laugh, and I recognize it as Raoul's. I start to sprint.

Finding my way to the end I run into a lake, but there is a boat, so I hop inside.

Rowing my way to the other side I see my brother standing out, as if expecting me.

"Philippe?" he hides no shock.

"Hello," I hide no anger.

"What are you doing here?" he demands.

"I got a tip from a friend that you are seeing a man!" I yell into his face.

He glances back to a room and I storm into the room, past my brother and see a man in a bed.

"You!" I yell and storm over to the man.

He almost cowers, "What do you want?"

"I am Raoul's brother, and you are not to see him again!" I scream.

"What? Why?" he seems so lost.

"Because, it is disgracing our name," I answer as calm as possible.

When he moves to grab me I grab his wrist and throw him to the ground.

"Erik!" my brother yells from behind me but I catch him before he can take another step towards the man.

I kick the man in the side and then drag Raoul back into the main room.

I throw him to the ground as well, "I should disown you for this!"

"For following my heart?" he asks incredulously.

"To a man?" I demand.

"I love him, Philippe. He's hurt already. I only meant to be a helping hand in healing him, and I fell in love," he confesses.

"Raoul…" my anger begins to subside.

"I'm sorry, Philippe, but I love this man!" he screams at me.

"Would you give your life for him?" I ask.

He stops dead, "Yes."

"I'm sorry," I answer.

He doesn't seem to understand.

"Raoul, go to him," I answer his silence.

He does, tentatively raising himself from the ground and walking past me.

I hear him drop to the ground by that man and I follow him.

I see Raoul holding that man, Erik apparently, tight in his arms. Erik is out cold, and Raoul is crying onto his back.

I kneel next to him, "Is he okay?"

"Erik will be fine, but he's hurting bad right now. He just passed out as you came in," he continues to hold Erik protectively.

"I'm so sorry, Raoul. I don't know how many times you've heard me say that, but I want you to know every time I do that I'm asking myself to forgive me too. I can not forgive myself for how I treat you, but my anger still gets the best of me," I bow my head in shame.

He turns to me and I think of something that might help, "Do you know a way out of here that leads straight outside?"

"Of course," he answers.

"Show me," I demand.

He lifts Erik back on the bed and shows me the way.

"Have Erik back here in two minutes," I turn and leave, on my way to hunt for a carriage.

I find one with ease and direct them back. I find Raoul holding Erik and I motion for him to get into the carriage. He does and I smile.

I hop in and direct the driver to our mansion, then turn to Raoul, "What are Chagny's when we do not show hospitality to our close friends?"

He laughs, and rubs Erik's arm.

As Erik starts to come to half way there I move over to allow them some room.

"Where are we?" Erik moans.

"On the way back to my home, Erik. You're coming to my home," he answers.

"No, I can't! I must stay at the Opera House! No one can see me there!" he panics. Then I really notice the mask for the first time. This man is very mysterious.

"I'll go back for our clothes later, but you must come with me now," my brother coos.

Erik looses his battle with consciousness again.

"Well that went well," my brother complains.

I wrap an arm around his shoulder, "I'm sure he'll enjoy being there more when he gets settled in."

"I hope so," we arrive and he instantly takes Erik to his own room.

Laying him on the bed he sits next to him, "This bed is big enough for five people, it can fit us, right?"

"Of course," I smile and leave the room. At least here, no rumors can be spread.

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**a/n: please review!**


	13. The Vase part two

a/n: sorry for the lack of updates this week, school has kept me pretty occupied.

Tay-kun : for some reason, i picture Philippe prone to mood swings, he just seems the type in the book...

Lize Radcliffe : lol, thanks! Yes, Philippe hasa thing against Erik... even in the book...

NightmareFX: lol, thanks! . aww! i think i'll have to go find that phanfic now!

* * *

RAOUL POV 

I wait for Erik to wake up. Hours have passed and he has barely moved a finger. And then the delightful happens, a moan escapes from deep within his throat.

"Erik?" I take his hand.

His eyes squeeze shut, "Ahh! The light!"

I should have known! I jump up and close the shades. He has not known light other than candles for many years, not like this, how could I be so stupid?

"I'm sorry," I sit next to him.

His eyes open, "It's alright."

"No, I should have known," I try.

"Please, if you had known this wouldn't have happened, and if you should have known I would be mad, and since neither are true than this was just an accident," he answers.

"Still," I take his hand.

"No, hush, let's forget it, you know now," he squeezes my hand.

His eyes then search the room. Nothing to be proud of, some nice furniture and a full wardrobe, nothing really decorative.

"Quite plain," he notices.

"Never really found a style for me," I shrug.

"This will not do," already he becomes critical.

A knock on the door sends him diving under the covers.

I call out, "Who is it?"

Philippe's voice answers, "Can I speak with you a moment?"

Erik takes my arm, "Don't let him in!"

"He won't hurt you," I whisper.

"Please," his eyes show his fear, and his face looks like that of a child scared of the monsters under his bed.

"Alright," I stand up and then exit the room.

"How is he?" my brother motions to Erik as I close the door.

"Scared, traumatized… but he'll be okay," I add.

"It's all my fault," he turns away.

"Yes," I won't deny the truth.

He turns to me, "What happened to the little brother standing up for the big brother thing?"

"That's for children, Philippe," I answer, slightly annoyed.

"I'm sorry," he nods.

"Stop," I demand.

"What?" he looks at me with utter confusion.

"You think that just saying that you're sorry mends everything!" I yell.

"No, I don't," he persists, "I know that it doesn't. Nothing will ever make up for…"

He's gone one step too far, "SHUT UP! Stop bringing that up!"

"I'm sorry, Raoul," he catches it.

"There you go again!" I scream in spite of this, "Just like always! Just leave us alone!"

I run off down the hall and into one of the larger wings that leads to the library. He knows not to follow me.

ERIK POV

I hear yelling, and then furious footsteps storming off.

The door handle rattles and I believe it to be Raoul, but when I see Philippe I panic.

Trying to get away from him, I fall hard off the bed. In an instant he stands above me. I duck and wrap my arms around myself, in the fetal position, trying to protect as much of me as possible from his furry.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Erik," he calmly replies to my terror.

I speak through my arms; "I've heard that before, why should I trust you?"

"Because," he opens his hands in a gesture showing me he means no harm, "I know how much my brother loves you."

"That didn't stop you before," I point out.

He sighs, "And let me apologize for that, I did not think before I took action. When I heard that there were rumors about my brother and another man spreading I became furious and assumed that man was taking advantage of my brother. I see now how wrong I was."

I nod, "Yes, you were."

"Here," he offers me his arm to help me up, "let's get you back in the bed."

I laugh, "I guess you haven't been told the extent of my injuries, Monsieur. I can barely move my legs, my wrists are quite damaged, and I have terrible bruising on my side, only the last one is from you, though."

He then moves to my side and carefully takes me in his arms, and places me back on the bed.

I look at him in shock, "Thank you."

He nods, "Of course."

"Your name is Philippe, right?" I ask.

"Yes, and yours should be Erik," he answers.

"Correct," I smile, "I've heard a lot about you."

"And how much was positive, nothing at all?" he wouldn't seem to be surprised by the answer.

"Very little, yes," I nod.

"Not surprising, my brother hates me," he lowers his head.

"He does not hate you, it's just hard for him to forgive you. In a way I think he does actually forgive you, but finds it easier to believe he hates you," I explain.

"Well, he's really good at the latter," he laughs lightly.

"I know," I lower my head as well.

"I never meant to hurt him, I never would hurt him, but that night, seeing that vase smashed, something in me snapped," his voice drops low, "Can I get your word that you will not tell him what I am about to say?"

"Of course," though I hate the idea, I do keep secrets.

He sighs deeply, "The only reason that I hurt him was the fact of who made the vase. It was our mother. She had been pregnant for about a month, still continuing day to day things, when she decided to start making it. It followed her through the many months of pregnancy. She actually finished it the day before Raoul was born. The next day, when I first held my baby brother in my arms, I knew that he would be the type to love flowers, something about him and that vase were meant to be. And that even became his favorite vase too. Every year he would know when his birthday was because I would always go out and buy our mother's favorite flowers, white roses, and put how ever many in there that would equal Raoul's age the next day. I was only upset, because it was the only vase she ever made, the first and the last. She had bragged about it when it was finished and often spoke of how she was going to make more after Raoul was born. But she died, and she never got the chance to make another."

His voice drops deadly silent and I realize that's all I am to hear.

And then there is a sob outside the door, though Philippe does not hear it.

Then another sob comes through, and I recognize it to be Raoul's.

I lower my head, and calmly call, "Raoul, come in here, please."

And so he does, head bowed and tears streaming onto the floor, in little pits and plops.

Philippe looks up at his brother and their eyes meet.

"I never meant to hurt you," Philippe's choked voice comes out.

"I never meant to do anything wrong," my angel replies.

"You never did do anything wrong, it was Josiah, and he is long gone," Philippe stands and pulls Raoul to him.

I watch as Raoul grasps his brother, his fingers tangling in the back of his brother's shirt, his tears soaking the shoulder of the fabric.

I watch as years of fighting and resentment are forgotten in one moment.

How I wish I had a chance to go back and make up with those in my past at this moment, but my mother has died, and only Nadir remains, and Allah knows where he could be.

But then I find myself content, content watching this moment pass, knowing that a bright future has started to form. Maybe there will be less shadow now, after all. Since I was a child that's all I ever wanted.

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**a/n: yes, this is partially Susan Kay's 'Phantom' based as well, for those of you who know what I'm talking about. please review!**


	14. You won't regret it

a/n: sorry this took so long, school is keeping me quite busy. I don't have time for my usual chat, since i have about three minutes to update before i gotta run, so thanks to all who reviewed!

and for those who want to read Phantom by Susan Kay : http/ size=1 width=100% noshade>The two let go of each other and then Raoul turns to me, "I love you."

I smile in return, "I love you too."

He bends over at the waist and kisses my cheek, leaving a burning sensation on my skin.

Philippe then gives me a stern look, "You realize that I am the legal guardian and decision maker for my brother."

My smile disappears, "Yes."

"Then you also know that I get to choose who goes and who stays at this house," Raoul gives him a desperate glance which is firmly ignored.

"Yes," I nod.

"Then you understand you must agree to my terms," he looks me over with a questioning glance.

"Name them, Monsieur," I calmly demand.

He turns away, "You are aloud to stay here, and only because my brother loves you. I respect that, but under one condition," then looks at me, "You promise not to call me anything other than Philippe… no matter what nicknames my brother tells you I have."

I laugh, "I can do that."

He smiles, "Good."

Then there is another knock at the door, "Sir?"

I dive for cover. Raoul's arms wrap around me, "It's just a maid."

Philippe walks to the door and answers, "Yes?"

"Pardon, Monsieur, but I needed to know if you are having anyone extra to dinner. You brought Monsieur Raoul's injured friend back, so I was wondering if it was dinner for three tonight?" she stands back, respectfully not looking into the room and I thank her silently for doing so.

Philippe glances back over to Raoul and myself as Raoul ducks down to my ear, "Would you like to come to dinner? My brother and I usually dine alone, but one extra person is no problem at all. There would only be two extra people, one serving the meal and the other serving the drink, and they know better than to question, or stare."

He reads my mind, "Alright, if you promise."

"I promise!" he kisses my cheek again, and turns to Philippe, nodding his head.

Philippe turns back to the lady, "Yes, Emily, there will be three of us dining, for a very long time. I will inform you otherwise."

She bows, "Of course, sir," and takes off.

He closes the door, "Well, before all of that I'm guessing you would like a change of clothes."

I nod, "I would, but that's nothing you should trouble yourself with."

He shakes his head, "Already done!"

I look at him in disbelief and he laughs, "It was really nothing. Raoul told me where to find your clothing and things, and his own that were taken down there, so I went to retrieve them. I hope you don't mind, but I also brought some of your music here as well. Raoul said you would want it. And a few other things," he smiles at Raoul and my angel rolls his eyes.

"Yes," he smiles at me, "Philippe was a good boy and fetched your things."

It's amazing, really, the ability to rebound in these two. They just bounce right back from whatever has happened, even that emotional fight just moments ago. Is this what it means to be part of a family?

Philippe opens the armoire and shows me how he put the clothes in. In order of color, shirt versus suit, and even the pants are meticulously folded in the bottom drawers.

I smile and thank him and he leaves the room.

"What nicknames?" I ask.

"What!" he answers.

"What are some of his nicknames?" I laugh.

"Later," he rolls his eyes a little and laughs as well.

There's a brief pause, but the silence is almost as comforting as words.

"I should let you get changed, and washed up as well, we have running water here, I was just surprised you could get running water from a lake!" he admits bashfully.

I kiss him lightly on the lips, "No problem, and thank you."

As I carefully walk to the armoire he reassures me, "I'm going to stay in here and read. If you need anything at all, just call for me, I'll hear you."

I smile, "Thank you."

I reach into the giant wardrobe and find every last outfit I own in there. Reaching for a particularly nice suit I take it carefully out and walk into the bathroom. Closing the door, I hang the suit on the door and start to shed the clothes I now where, sweat soaked, but nothing else wrong with them. I can clean them later.

Shedding all, including the mask, I then find myself longing for the warmth of my love. I know he would never agree to joining me, and his brother would be appalled by the idea, but I long so much to feel him by me.

I peak my head out the door slightly, "Raoul?"

He lifts his head over his book, "Yes, my angel?"

"Would you… join me?" I motion with my hand for him to come to me.

He hesitates a moment, then resolves, "Of course, anything for you."

I smile and he leaves the room, bringing back his dinner clothes and joining me in the bathroom.

Letting his clothes smoothly fall off his body, we find ourselves bare in front of each other. I light only a few candles, blowing the rest out, and I fill the tub. Checking the temperature I slide in and he follows.

He frowns, "We have nothing as nice as your shampoos and soaps smell, but we do have very fine, easy on the skin, ones," he smiles.

I move so that my head is resting on his shoulder, "That sounds just fine."

I sit forward and wet my hair, and I feel his hands run along my scalp. I moan in delight at the feel that I longed for, even in my dreams. In these past few days, or weeks as it has felt to me, I have found myself dreaming of his exquisite touch, his smooth hands of that one heated night.

I find the shampoo and read the label, "Strawberry scented?"

"Just wait until you see the soap," he laughs.

There are two, "Raspberry, or warm vanilla sugar."

"Yeah… if you want there is some warm vanilla sugar shampoo as well, over here," he motion behind him.

I slyly make my way over to him and reach over him for the shampoo. He pulls me on top of him with an innocent, "oops."

I grin and make my move, closing my lips over his. He pulls me to him and I see that I have not been the only one dreaming of my angel's touch.

Our kiss is fast, but heated.

He's a little hurt when I pull back.

I caress his face, "There will be plenty of time for that after dinner, Raoul, I assure you."

He grins and lets me take the shampoo.

We wash up and I leave the tub smelling of pure Warm Vanilla Sugar. We were both respectable, holding each other in caressing embraces, but also keeping our minds open that this was neither the time nor place.

We walk out in our suits, me without my mask.

"Are you going to not wear one? I would like that," I stop dead.

"You would, would you?" I growl.

"Yes, Erik," he comes to my side and caresses my deformed features, "I hate to see you wear that cold lifeless thing."

"Of all the things Raoul! I would not deny you anything, anything but this," I exclaim.

"Please, just tonight," he pleads, "Philippe will say nothing, I know it, and the servants know their places! Please, for me."

I look at him with such pain in his eyes, and I return that gaze with my own pain, but I can not deny him, "Just tonight."

He beams and kisses my marred cheek.

"You won't regret it," he kisses me again.

My dear angel, I already do.

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**a/n: please review!**


	15. The Experiment

a/n: we're drawing close to the end, everyone, so here is one of the last chapter! Enjoy!

Thank you very much to:

NightmareFX 

Lize Radcliffe (and yes, vanilla is awesome, isn't it?)

inkie pinkie

* * *

Walking downstairs is like torture. I watch as a servant passes me. Their eyes land on my face, and then go back to their job, whether in fear or respect I can not tell. Raoul doesn't seem to have noticed as he escorts me down to the dining room. Once there I see Philippe already sitting at the head of the table. Raoul takes a seat and motions for me to sit across from him.

PHILIPPE POV

I had always wondered what was hidden behind the mask, but this is too much for me. The sight is utterly repulsive, and I find myself quite disgusted. I hold my tongue though, and I act as if he were anyone else at my table. From the looks of things he's already having a difficult enough time.

"So, Erik," he turns to me, as if he were still wearing his mask, but much slower, almost reluctantly, "What do you do in your spare time? Any hobbies other than playing and writing music?"

"Oh yes," he answers politely, "Any type of art really. I'm also quite fond of architecture. My favorite artistic expression would be painting."

"Are you good?" I ask.

"Oh, just an amateur, really, still practicing, nothing worthy of praise," he lowers his head.

"Are you kidding?" Raoul defends him, "You're art is amazing."

"No, nothing that great, Raoul, you've never seen my work," he looks up at Raoul.

"Wasn't that your work all throughout your room," Erik lowers his head further.

"Like I said, terrible work," he sighs out.

"Morbid, very much so, but terrible, that's the opposite of what I saw," Raoul takes Erik's hand from across the table and holds it, squeezing it slightly.

I decide to cut in, "My brother has quite a taste for art, Erik. I know that I can trust what he says is good to be excellent, indeed, so, if what I hear is true, than you must be a genius."

"I'm not a genius," he ends the conversation as the first course of our French meal is brought in.

It's very fresh vegetables in a mild sauce; "This looks great, thank you."

The server bows and leaves as the drinks are poured and dinner begins.

Erik has chosen wine as his drink.

"You may want to hold off on the wine until later," I suggest.

He politely answers, "It is the only thing I drink."

"I'll make a note to get some more than," I turn back to my meal and Raoul nervously glances at Erik.

The main meal is a very fine cut of steak, cooked to perfection and seasoned lightly with a small side of potato.

If I eat civilized, then Erik eats as though he were dining with a king, very polite and following every etiquette rule ever made, I'm sure.

He finishes and politely waits for the next course in silence, having only eaten half his meal.

RAOUL POV

I should have known our portions would be much too large for him. He barely eats, and when he does it is in small portions. I shall have to make a note of that. I love my brother so much for trying to include Erik in polite conversation and never staring or making rude remarks. I guess that he would never dare do such a thing.

Our salads come and Erik politely takes the serving but barely makes a dent in it, before pushing it back.

The cheese and fresh fruit are served, and all he takes is a small stack of crackers and finishes.

"Now," he politely starts, "if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I would like to rest."

"Erik?" he holds up a hand to stop me and leaves.

"What is his problem with the food? This is the finest around!" my brother exclaims once he hears Erik's door close.

"He does not eat much by nature, Philippe," I comment.

"Why not?" my brother is being quite rude now, his perfect demeanor shattered.

"Because… when he was younger he did not each much, because he was not given much," I try to end the conversation.

"Was he poor?" my brother asks, more soft now.

"No, he was thrown out by his mother and picked up by gypsies," I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Without excusing myself I leave to follow Erik.

Knocking on his door there is no answer.

"Erik, it's only me, Raoul," I answer the silence.

"Please, just go away, I'm fine," the sound is from the bathroom.

"Erik…" my voice trails off.

"Raoul, please, I'll be out soon enough," he comments.

I open the door and walk in anyways, finding him on the bathroom, holding a bin and vomiting roughly into it.

I rush to his side and start to rub his back soothingly as the action shakes his body.

"I ate far too much," he comments.

"I was very surprised you managed it all. Thank you, but I shall make the note to the cook not to make you such a large meal," I rub his back some more.

He smiles vaguely and finds his heaves now dry.

"I'll go get you something to rinse your mouth out with," I comment and leave to go and fetch some mint water from the kitchen.

Quickly doing so and returning, I find him mopping sweat out of the crevices of his deformed face.

He quickly stops when he notices my presence, "Sorry."

I smile, "Don't be."

I hand him the rinse and he gladly rids himself of the taste in his mouth. When he finishes I follow him out of the bathroom as he lies down on the bed. I start to rub his back and I feel his muscles relax under my touch.

Eventually I lean down and kiss him gently on the mouth.

Pulling away I smile and joke, "Minty fresh."

He laughs and I find myself longing for him to laugh more, the sound very light and pleasant. I reach out and gently remove his mask, caressing his face.

"I shouldn't have made you go down there like that, I'm sorry," I turn away, my hand still on his face.

His hand reaches up to gently cover mine, "You wouldn't have asked if I were more lenient about it around you."

"But I shouldn't have pushed you into it. I'm sure that is also partially the reason you got sick," I lie on top of his back and start to pull on the shirt, leaving enough of his back bare for me to rest my head on it.

He moans, "Probably, but I think I needed that."

"What?" I lift my head slightly.

"To see how your brother reacted. I must say, it was not with the greatest of courtesy, but he really did try. I would like to thank him for that next time I see him," he let's me resettle on his back and then takes a deep breath, making me laugh.

"You know," changing the subject, "we didn't have sufficient time in the bath earlier."

He smiles, "No, we didn't."

"We have time now," I grin against his skin.

"Yes, we do, don't we?" he takes a hold of my hand and I smile wider still, if it is possible.

I sit up and we both make for our wardrobes, me coming in with lounge wear and him simply taking a black kimono for afterwards.

"That's beautiful," I comment.

"I like it as well," he fingers it carefully, "I do some of my best composing wearing it."

"Only that?" I take him in my arms.

He laughs, "Yes, only this."

We slip into the perfect temperature water, but everything seems so much hotter. I move into his lap and his lips mold over mine in a hot searing kiss. His tongue slips out and runs over my lips, and my mouth gladly opens to allow him entry once again. His taste is exquisite, minty still, and I wrap my arm around his neck, holding myself closer and pulling him to me in the same motion.

His tongue meets mine and they fight for the right of domination. Mine tongue looses as his moves on to the rest of my mouth, searching, intoxicating me with every contact he makes. A deep moan escapes my throat as a result.

He pulls back and his mouth moves down onto my collarbone, nipping at the skin. Every now and then he bites hard and I whimper. In reaction to his, he lets his tongue trace the bite and lightly kisses my skin, muttering an apology. He then starts to move back to my neck and bites down painfully, hard enough to bruise. I cry out, but he moves his hand to choke it, making sure I draw no attention to us from the rest of the house.

When his mouth moves lower I can feel the start of a bruise forming on my neck. I whimper again.

He lifts his head, and I can see the lust in his eyes, but when he looks at my neck the lust subsides into sadness.

"I'm sorry," he lightly touches it and I wince, the pain bordering unbearable at the slightest touch.

I reassuringly take his hand in my own. There are no words, for if there were they would sound too wrong, they would sound angered, which I am not.

I gently urge him to keep going, my hands tangled in his hair, so he continues.

His kisses trail down to the line of the water, and then his hips dig into my own.

"Erik," I gently coo, as he seems to double over in need of release.

"My angel?" he answers.

"It's okay… I'll be okay," I insist.

"I won't hurt you!" he cries.

"I got to do this last time, and now you need it more than I do, I'm not afraid!" I insist.

He nods and I turn over, knowing that the soap and the water are enough for me, I don't mind.

He simply covers my mouth and thrusts, nothing soft and sweet before hand, just pure lust and release. I cry out in pain and his hand luckily smothers it.

Feeling him release inside me, I feel my own release and energy from me drain.

He then gathers me in his arms, holding me close. I curl against his chest and feel sleep start to take over me.

I feel him lift me out of the tub and dry me off, wrapping me in his black kimono.

I look down; "I couldn't accept wearing this…"

"It's fine," he runs his fingers through my hair, "I have more than one, and it's easier than trying to get you into regular clothes."

"I can dress myself," I insist drowsily.

"I'd rather you not," he scolds.

Picking me up, he takes me to his bed and lays me on my back, covering me gently.

"Sleep well, my angel," is the last thing I hear before my battle with sleep is lost.

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**a/n: please review! **


	16. A Break

a/n: yep, an update! And just for everyone's knowledge, there is one chapter and an epilogue left... that's it!

Thank you to:

NightmareFX

Tay-kun

inkie pinkie (nah, just sick... no eating disorders here)

Lize Radcliffe(go vanilla! YAY!)

* * *

I wake up to instant pain. I open my eyes and see that I'm covered up, but not in my bed. I look to my side and see Erik, lying on top of the covers, reading a book. 

"Erik?" I turn over for another shot of pain.

He looks down at me and instantly there is relief in his eyes, "Thank God, you're okay!"

"Of course," I look at him in confusion, "In pain, but okay."

"I knew it!" he looks to his side and brings back a couple of pills, "Here, take these, they'll help."

Handing me the pills he helps me swallow them with water. He then holds me in his arms like a baby and starts running his fingers through my hair.

"Hey! I'm not the one who needs care! You have your wrists to worry about," I scold.

He shows me them, and they are un-bandaged and completely healed, "I'm fine."

I let myself fall limp in his arms and instantly concern draws his face into a panic, "Raoul?"

"I'm okay, just really tired," I answer.

"I'll have our meals brought up here," he walks off, leaving me suddenly feeling empty more so than alone.

ERIK POV

I walk out and head toward the library, knowing where that is after Philippe showed me last night. I needed to ask him for the ingredients for the painkillers and asked where I could find him if I needed to. He showed me the library. I like it there, it's huge and has so many great places to explore. And not literally or physically, but mentally, with books from all over the world. I could spend hours in there, and I will, once I know my angel can be there by my side.

I walk in and see him at his usual desk. He looks up at me and beams.

"And what can I do for you, Erik?" he's really not this cheerful, he sounds more stressed than anything.

"It's Raoul, he's not feeling well this morning, I was wondering if we could get the meals taken to the room?" I stand in the doorway, wishing to intrude no further.

He looks back to his papers, "I'll see to it as soon as I'm finished here."

I turn to leave, then stop, and turn back, walking over to him.

He looks up, his voice much harsher, "You heard me, didn't you?"

I nod and sit across from him, "What time did you retire last night?"

"What?" he looks at me in disbelief.

"What time did you retire to your room last night?" I repeat, "If I'm not mistaken it was quite late, right around 3 in the morning."

"Yes. So I was, big deal! It comes at the price of being a Comte, or a Chagny for that matter," he lowers his head to return to work.

"What time did you come back to continue work?" I insist.

"What?" he slams his papers on the desk, hard, "This is none of your business! Go!"

"Just answer the question," I stare him in the eyes and watch a strong man start to cower.

"About six this morning," he admits.

I pick up the papers, "What are these?"

"Documents, I need to file them over there," he points to a wall filled with documents much like these.

"How are they ordered?" I set them back down.

"Alphabetized by the person who wrote it, this one I can not seem to find though," he rubs his eyes in an exhausted manor.

I look at the papers, "Tell you what, you go tell them about our meals and then you get to bed, I'll tell them not to bother you and I'll finish this when I finish my breakfast. Deal?"

He heaves a great sigh, "Deal."

We both stand and I follow him back to the door.

He stops and turns to me; "You really are a great man."

He leave before I can respond, but I know he already knows what I would say. I'm grateful he feels this way, especially after last night. Not many people could respect a man with my face, despite the fact that he is their brother's lover.

I walk back to my room in silence to find Raoul flipping through the book I had been reading.

"The Merchant of Venice. Shakespeare," he comments, "I never understood him."

"It's unimaginably simple," I answer, "You just need to understand the people."

"And how do you do that?" I laugh at his innocence, something I fear I never had.

"Just see how they speak and how they get along with the others, once you get the manner in which they act understood you can understand the manner in which they speak," I take the book and open to the first page, "In sooth I know not why I am sad. That was a character named Antonio. What does this quote tell you about him?"

"Umm… that he in sooth knows not why he is sad?" his look of confusion brings a smile to my face.

I can not help but laugh, "It means he is depressed and doesn't know why."

"Oh," Raoul's eyes lower and I pull him into a tight embrace. His eyes close and I feel his body relax.

A knock on the door spoils our fun.

I sit up and call out, "Come in."

Our food is brought in and wordlessly set before us.

Time for me to hold up part of my end of this bargain, "Mademoiselle?"

"Oui, Monsieur?" she turns back to me at the door.

"I was asked to make a request that no one is to bother Comte Philippe, he is terribly busy in his room," I answer.

She nods, "Of course, Monsieur, thank you."

I nod and she leaves.

Raoul turns to me, "What business could my brother possibly have that is that important in his room? Everything important is in the library!"

"I have told him to get some rest, and that I'll be taking care of what needs to be done," I kiss his cheek, "Now eat."

And he does, along with me, with no further questions.

When we finish I turn to him and smile, "Now I must hold up the rest of my bargain."

Standing and leaving I watch as he stares at me until I leave. Feeling guilty I dare not turn back as I head for the library, knowing if I do so this job will never get completed. Walking back in I look at the document and sigh. The poor man really must have been exhausted; the signature is right on the front. Sighing I find its rightful place on the shelf and walk back to the room, eager to see my love again.

When I return he is grinning.

"What?" I cock my head curiously.

"Nothing," he smiles some more.

"Tell me…" I urge.

He seals his lips shut and shakes his head.

I approach him like a wild animal would approach its prey, "Tell me, Raoul, or I'll have to force it out of you."

Still he persists, and I give in, lying on the bed, "Fine! You can be so stubborn…"

He grins that brilliant smile that only he can wear and lays his head in my lap. I gently run my fingers through his hair.

RAOUL POV

Oh yes Erik, there is something. As I lay here I know perfectly well that, though Philippe may be resting, he is wide-awake, writing letters and making arrangements. In good time all will tell its tale… in good time you will know.

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**a/n: please review! ().**


	17. A Rose

a/n: It is sad to say that there is only an epilogue left after this chapter... I have really enjoyed writing this story, and I hope that you all have enjoyed reading it.

And great big thank you to:

Lize Radcliffe  
and

NightmareFX  
for your reviews for last chapter!

now, on to the story!

* * *

A week! It has been a week since Philippe's "break" and the plan is almost complete. I walk down stairs, down into the unused cellars of our house, but now they buzz with activity. Erik has been getting restless, and averting his gaze from both the windows and the cellar has become quite the task. But now that the plan is in full action he has returned to the Opera House, to Madame Giry's call. She is simply warning him that his stuff has been noticed and that he must pack and leave at once. I told him that it would not be a bother for his stuff to be moved here and he sighed, complaining about his organ. I assured him we could find another. Not that we had to, we already had ordered and set one up downstairs. You see, I knew what he would pack, what he would take, and everything that he couldn't I have replicated. He shall have his entire home under the Opera House, minus the lake, all under the Chagny mansion. 

He left about two hours ago and should be returning shortly. I get the workers to leave the back cellar door just as his carriage starts to pull up. I see his worried gaze through my window upstairs and disappear before I am spotted. He comes out of the carriage carrying a bag and Philippe now must take care of the rest.

ERIK POV

Carrying the remnants of my home, I walk up to the front door of the Chagny mansion to be greeted by Philippe.

He smiles and takes one of the sacks from me, "Erik, I know this must be hard for you, but if you would please help me take these down to the cellar, where you can keep them if you like."

I nod solemnly and he leads me down without another word. The poor boy has no idea how hard this truly is for me.

When we get down there a huge curtain blocks the way. I set down my bag as he does and motion to the curtain, "What's this?"

He smiles, "Take it down and see for yourself."

And so I do… and the sight is breathtaking. It's my house… my home by the lake, perfectly rendered and only missing what I have carried here myself. I walk through the house and I feel tears start to sting at my eyes.

Behind me his voice is speaking, but it barely reaches my ears, "It's all yours. This whole place is solely set aside for you and anyone you wish to allow down here."

I walk up and gently caress the perfect keys of the piano, a single tear falling onto one and then onto another, before a flood begins to flow.

Sitting on the bench I allow my tears to flow freely behind my mask as I throw my heart to the mercy of the music. Playingoutmyfeelings, I throw my heart and soul into my song.

PHILIPPE POV

I have never heard music like this before. It penetrates my every fiber and destroys every thing I know. It's as if the music were my emotion. When it swells with joy so do I and when it pounds with anger I feel like killing the man who plays this wonderful piece. Never before has music like this touched the ears of man and never again should it. This is meant for the ears of this man's angel and for his own pleasure.

I walk up behind him and place a hand on his shoulder. He stops abruptly.

"Sorry," his voice is an almostinaudible whisper.

"Don't be," I answer, "but I have one last thing."

He turns and the sadness of his eyes must match the sadness of his soul, "Yes?"

"Raoul asked me to give you these," I hand him two roses, one black and one red, "and request that you give him the red rose if you choose to stay, and the black rose if you choose to leave."

He stares in shock.

"This is not my decision Erik, but I will not resent you no matter how you choose," I turn and leave him alone to decide.

RAOUL POV

My heart flutters as I hear the door begin to open; only to see Philippe come out and walk by me, not saying a word.

It's as I feared, he is not going to accept.

Ages seem to pass before my true angel emerges, his cloak his great black wings, his wings that only I truly recognize.

He looks at me in silence and approaches, his uncovered face as unreadable as the mask itself. I nearly whimper as his hand goes below the cloak…

… only to emerge with the black rose.

My heart seems to shatter into a million pieces as he holds it out toward me. My world seems to stop moving as he just holds his hand out toward me and I stare at the black rose. I look at the velvety black petals and I watch as his hand slowly starts to engulf the flower. The action takes me by surprise, but not as much as what he does next. He closes his hand and crushes the petals; rubbing his fingers roughly against the flower and letting the dead petals fall silently, almost mournfully, to the floor.

I stare back at his face as he kneels down, dropping the stem of the black rose and pulls out the red rose, bowing his head and offering it to me.

A single tear escapes my eye, falling onto the rose and winding its way down to his hand. When it first makes contact with his skin his head shoots up and stares at me in surprise. I drop painfully to my knees and find us at eye level with each other.

Slowly, almost not moving at all, my hand reaches out to accept the rose, and just as I take it, his hand causes me to drop it and takes it himself. It's my turn to be shocked as he slowly entwines his fingers with my own and takes my other hand. Even slower than my hand moved before, his lips close the distance to mine and he catches me in the most meaningful kiss of my life.

This kiss not only means that he is not leaving me, but he is staying here with me. He loves me, and that's all I have wanted to know since day one, that he loved me and that I would be cherished as his forever. I never knew that it would lead me to take such extreme measures, or feel such pain, both physical and emotional, but I do not regret a single moment of it.

The kiss ends reluctantly, but I know this is only the beginning.

I lower my head as my tears fall in a stream.

"Raoul?" he squeezes my hands.

I sniff, and speak in a choked voice, "I thought that I had lost you for a moment there."

He shakes his head violently, "Never, Raoul, you will never lose me!"

I start to sob harder and I feel his strong arms circle around me. I fall into his embrace like a lost child and long for him never to let go. His arms tighten with every sob until I fear that they might choke the life out of me and still I long for this embrace, this comforting feeling of love.

Eventually, though, I know he must let go. So he does. He picks up the rose, but then swoops me up in his arms.

I grab onto his neck, wrapping my arms around it as though it were a lifeline and he lets me nuzzle against him as he carries me down to his lair.

"This place would not be the same," he starts, "without you here by my side."

I smile into his neck as he sets me down on the bench and sits beside me, ready to play for me. I smile as his fingers find their homes on the keys and wait expectantly for him to play.

When he does the music is the happiest I have ever heard him play, and something tells me this is not the last time I'll be hearing it.

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**a/n: please review!**


	18. The End

a/n: I appologize for the delay and for the shortness of the epilogue, but here you all go!

Thank you:

NightmareFX

Lize Radcliffe

inkie pinkie

* * *

RAOUL POV

A year since he has accepted, a year since he was brought back to society. I smile as I look at him now. He eats more, plays for me anytime I like, spends many hours in the library, reading to me out loud and we even find time for our more intimate moments.

I no longer live the life that for so long I learned to dread, the life of a Vicomte. My brother and I have agreed that I do not need so many burdens and he has agreed to lighten his load of them as well. Now Erik and I go to the Opera House only to go to Box 5, watch the opera, see Madame Giry, and leave again. We can now live like normal people, and it has made my love and I the happiest men alive.

ERIK POV

A year since I was accepted, a year since he showed me kindness in this society. I smile at him as I look at him now. He smiles more, listens gladly to my music, spends many hours with me in the library as I read to him, and we still find time for our nights together.

I no longer live a life I, for so long, learned dread, the life of a ghost. Raoul and I have worked on getting me back to society, and his brother has helped us so much with this as well! Now my angel and I go to the Opera House only to visit my old box, watch the opera, see my old friend and little Giry as well, and leave again. We can now live like normal people, and it has made Raoul and I the happiest men alive!

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thank you all for reading!


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